


No Love Like Your Love

by AndreaLyn



Series: No Love [1]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alien Royalty, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-02-29 12:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 99,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18778177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaLyn/pseuds/AndreaLyn
Summary: Michael follows in his mother's footsteps and runs off to Earth to escape his royal responsibilities, but what he finds in Roswell is so much more than he ever bargained for and may change his life forever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If nothing else, 1x12 just made me want a ridiculous sprawling fix-it where Michael gets to have a life with his mother and that bore this AU. There's some timeline stuff at play where everyone from '47 is still alive and well thanks to space-time antics (aka, AU power) and we're borrowing some royalty because secret royalty in Roswell was too good to ignore.
> 
> So, please enjoy!

Michael lands in Roswell on a hot August night in 2006, ending a months-long trip across the galaxy. He could lie and say that it had been exciting. He could pretend that he’d spent his time dodging meteors, meeting other species, and saving lives, but he’d be lying.

Honestly, the most excitement he’d seen had been when the course he’d programmed into the ship had to get re-routed because of a few satellites along the way. Or maybe it had been the time when he’d run out of his favorite rations and had to subsist on something like gruel for weeks. It makes it all the better when he breaches the atmosphere and begins his final controlled descent in the night sky, touching down on a lawn in Roswell, New Mexico.

Once he turns off the engines and goes through the safety checklist, he bounds outside and finds his mother waiting for him on the desert strip outside of a two story house.

“Welcome home,” she says, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing tightly. 

Michael wants to argue that it’s the furthest thing from home (technically), but he buries his face in his mom’s blonde hair and thinks about how he’d almost forgotten what a hug like her felt like. He basks in it a little while longer, even though he’s exhausted and there are so many things to do.

They both get to work deactivating the more dangerous parts of the ship, but when he drops the tools a few times, he earns The Look. “Get some rest,” she tells him, when he’s swaying on his feet and looks like he’s about to pass out. “We’ll talk when you’re a coherent person again.”

It’s been ages since he’s been sent off to his room. Maybe he’ll be upset about it tomorrow, but he barely makes it upstairs to a room that looks almost identical to the one he’d left on Antar before he collapses face-first into the pillows. Given how tired he is, he’s not sure he can be mad that his mom sent him to bed. In his exhaustion, he sleeps like the dead, and he doesn’t think that he dreams. 

It’s dusk when he wakes up again. 

It takes him a while to remember that he’s not bunking down in his ship and he’s not on Antar. He’s on Earth. Sleepily turning over in bed, Michael changes into a pair of clothes his mother had laid out for him on the bed. They smell of a detergent he doesn’t recognize, but then, everything in this atmosphere smells a little different, which is something he’s going to have to get used to.

“Is my little terror awake?” his Mom asks, glancing up when Michael comes bounding down the stairs, yanking his t-shirt on. “I tried to wake you up three times. Twice with my powers and then once with a very big stick, you didn’t budge. Was the trip hard?”

Yawning, Michael wanders into the main room and tries to take in everything that he’d missed last night on his sleepy exodus to bed. “Hit a few bumpy patches, but I planned a perfect flight plan,” he boasts.

She doesn’t seem so impressed. “I noticed you’re two weeks ahead of schedule. How many risks did you take programming that in?”

Michael scrunches up his nose, like he’s trying to think about the answer, but conveniently has no idea all of a sudden. “None?”

She clearly doesn’t believe him. 

“We’ll talk about that later,” she says, so Michael’s going to be grounded for the first time in a very long while. Lucky for him, her anger with him seems to flag in the face of how much she’s missed him. “Well, I’m glad you’re here, but now that you’ve rested, it’s time for the speech. New planet, new rules.”

“Mom!” he protests, apparently not getting out of structure and order so easily. 

He’s sixteen and while he might be travelling from his home planet for the first time in his life, he’s not a kid. He’s one of the smartest people on their whole planet and she knows that. Yet, here she is, treating him like he’s still seven. Grimacing, Michael scuffs his shoe against the tiles, collapsing into one of her big wicker chairs.

The whole house has a vibe that his Mom calls ‘Santa Fe Alien’ in her letters, where pieces of alien tech are just on display because people around here see them as art and nothing else. The logic is that the weirder they are in plain sight, the less people will come after them. Michael has to admit, she’s not wrong. By the looks of it, it seems that she’s taken his ship and turned it into an art sculpture overnight, sticking a bird fountain into it once she’d moved it into the backyard.

That’s his Mom, all right.

“You’re going to school,” she says, which sounds like rule number one.

“Are you serious? I just finished a dissertation on light speed intergalactic travel!” he snaps. “You want me to sit in a room with a bunch of humans and pretend I need to learn?”

“Yes,” she insists, clearly not swayed by his temper tantrum. “Sweetheart, you can make as many engines as you want, but you’re on earth now. You need to pretend to be dumber than you are in the math and sciences so you can learn about the culture and the history, maybe even make some friends. Which is rule number two. You’re going to make friends.”

She’s treating this like some kind of cultural exchange instead of what it actually is - Michael following in his mother’s footsteps and absconding away from any and all responsibilities. 

“Rule number three,” she keeps going. “Come give me another hug, I’ve missed you.”

Now that one, he can do.

It’s been years since he’s seen his mother, whose trips back home have become more infrequent. Bored of the life of being a princess too far removed to do anything good with it, his mother had opted to go on one of the earth missions to help situate and study, learning about the humans. There are about two Antarians in every major city, but his mother had moved from Santa Fe to Roswell, all because the town had a close call with one of their vessels in ’47.

None of their people had been lost, thankfully, but the ship had still gone down. They’d managed to get an SOS up and been picked up, but Roswell had been left with a myth that they’ve turned into a culture of alien conspiracies, while they couldn’t even recognize the aliens under their own noses.

“It makes me feel at home to be here,” Mara always said, when she’d moved there six years ago. “One day, maybe you’ll see.”

Now, at sixteen, Michael’s starting to understand why she’d left in the first place. His father’s not in the picture, even though he’s still around, but he’s busy commanding armies and running training exercises. That’s never going to be Michael, so when it had become clear that Max and Isobel were going to be just fine on their own being the first two in line for the throne, Michael had made his way out of there, because the royal life had started to become _suffocating_.

“We’re the Guerins here,” she says, when Michael is done hugging her as tightly as he can. That doesn’t matter to him. Michael isn’t his birth name, but he and Max and Isobel had been idiot teenagers and had decided they wanted to pick their own names, ones that felt exotic and interesting. Using them always made them feel like they could control something in their lives.

Given that all three of them have set paths they’re supposed to walk, a name is a small thing, but it's something they’re adamant about. Their parents have opted to humor them and when they talk amongst each other or write, they always use _those_.

“Michael Guerin,” he tries it out, shrugging. “I guess it’s fine.”

“Good. Now, rule number four - only powers inside this house or when no one’s looking.” 

“Fine,” he grumbles, tucking his legs under him as he gives her a wary look, settling back down on the wicker chair. “How many more rules are there?”

“I’ll email you the rest,” she says (which will turn out to be a four-page document that has Michael debating yanking the birdbath out of the spaceship and heading right back to Antar). “Now, come have dinner. I made you spaghetti and meatballs.”

He’s not sure _what_ that is, but she seems to treat it like some kind of delicacy. Through dinner, she keeps reaching over to fix his hair, even though it’s only going to get worse the more she touches it, so he keeps ducking away from intruding fingers. 

“How’s your father?”

“You mean your estranged husband?” Michael snarks. He might not be a child of divorce (because the scandal could ruin them), but they’re basically separated in all but name. He leans over the plate and licks some of the sauce straight off it, coming back with red sauce on his chin. He assumes that she’s glaring at him for his manners or his sass, or maybe both.

He'd been fourteen the last time he’d seen his mother, before he’d been sent to school to help revolutionize Antar’s science programs.

That didn’t mean anyone had managed to teach him manners in her place. 

“Dad’s fine,” Michael says dismissively, wiping at his chin with a napkin. “Real picture of a successful royal family. You send your kid off to fancy boarding school because the planet needs new technological advancements, Dad leads the army, and Mom decides she’s tired of the responsibility and goes to live it up in the colonies.” 

Not that he’s any better, seeing as how he ran away in her footsteps. Michael keeps twirling the same piece of pasta again and again with no luck, only succeeding when his mother shoves a spoon there. 

“Remind me about your intelligence scores? How long were you going to let your dinner best you?”

“Science, not supper,” he quips. “Dad says hi, that he’ll think about coming to visit when he gets some time off. I’ve got letters for you in my bags.” 

For all that his parents have a weird and tense relationship where they seem to be stupidly in love the further away they get from one another, Michael can’t begrudge the fact that knowing there are letters makes his Mom light up like that. 

While she’s dazing on a high, he leans over to grab more of the spaghetti, because he’s still growing.

“How long are you here?” she asks him, because she knows as well as he does -- you don’t get to run away for good, not unless you do something drastic.

As much as Michael doesn’t want the responsibility that’s waiting for him, he also hadn’t been willing to sign away all his rights and duties, so drastic still isn’t on the table. 

“Three years,” he says, which will send him back to Antar at nineteen, where he’s expected to get another degree and work on the next round of scientific innovations when he’s not turning up to events to smile, wave, and be the good little prince he never has been.

That’s Max. It’s Isobel.

He’s barely in line for the throne and he’s never acted like it. He’s here to enjoy three years uninterrupted with his mother before real life kicks in. There’s a part of his brain (the one that puts his mother above all else) that says maybe in three years, he can convince her to come back with him. 

He’s a genius, though. For all that he’d love to let hope guide him, rationality is always bound to kick in.

It doesn’t take very long for him to look around and see that he’s not getting her out of this place. The home has all the touches that remind Michael of his mother in a way that means that even though he’s never seen this place before, he’s instantly right at home. More than that, she’s here. He won’t say it out loud because he’s sixteen now and he’s invented new mechanics for lightspeed travel, but deep down, he’s been lonely and feeling like his life is missing something for not having her in it. He’ll take whatever he can get, even if she doesn’t come back to Antar with him at the end of his time here.

“Well,” she says, leaning over to kiss his forehead as she collects his plate. “I guess we’d better make the most of those three years.” 

He doesn’t get up to help her, but he uses his powers to turn on the sink and fill it up with soap as he wanders the house to see what she’s been working on. He can tell that he’ll have something to keep him occupied when he’s not fulfilling his mother’s boring ‘be normal’ rules about going to school when he sees the garage. He can’t help his fond smile when he sees that she’s cleared out a workspace for him.

When he ducks back into the house, his mother’s on the couch underneath a knit blanket, wriggling to make space for him.

“Mom,” he protests. “I’m not seven anymore.”

“In my mind, you always are,” she stubbornly replies, patting the space on the leather sofa beside her. “I haven’t seen you in two _years_ , I’m owed at least one night’s worth of a snuggle.” 

Michael trudges over, pretending to drag his feet, but when he slides in under the blanket and she extends that protective cocoon of her mind to protect him with it too, he honestly does feel like he’s seven years old again. He smiles as their fingers twine together, and he rests his cheek on her shoulder while she strokes her fingers through his hair.

There’s some terrible comedy playing on the television, but he’s barely paying attention to it.

“I like your house,” he praises, sleepy despite the fact that he’d nearly been out for a whole day.

Being encased in her powers like this is always enough to put him to sleep, maybe because it _had_ been his lullaby for years. 

“Thanks for the garage,” he adds. “I’m gonna need to rebuild pieces of the engine before I head back, but once I’m done impersonating a normal human being, it shouldn’t take long at all. You think they’ll care if I turn it in for a project?”

“Well,” his mother sighs, “at least I’m going to learn what a parent-teacher conference feels like.” 

They lie together on the couch until commercials turn to infomercials. His Mom has fallen asleep and Michael is still up, but he adjusts the blanket so that she’s comfortably tucked in. He feels the warmth radiating from her even subconsciously. Once he’s sure that she’s really out, he cleans up the pots and pans in the kitchen, settles down to scribble a few ideas and notes on the lightspeed engine he’s been working on, and then grabs his bag.

He places the letters from Dad on the table in front of her, drapes another blanket over her shoulders, and then settles in the big comfortable chair with a book.

_I love you, sweetheart_ , comes fuzzily through their connection. 

She’s probably not fully awake, dreaming about him, but Michael is bursting with warmth to hear it. Closing his eyes, he sends back an _I love you too_ across their bond and quickly buries himself in his book so that he doesn’t have to think about what happens next week when his new life on earth begins.

School looms, boring and inevitable. 

With any luck, maybe he’ll figure out at least _something_ that makes it worthwhile, but he’s not getting his hopes up.

* * *

The next Monday, Michael finally succumbs to his prescribed fate and goes to school.

She hears him around four, banging around the house in a way that suggests he’s _stomping_. “How was your first day of school?” Mara calls from her workshop, where she’s been piecing together a new communications relay between cities for the Antarians to work with. She hears Michael’s backpack drop to the ground with a heavy thump, then sees him trudge into the room, laughing when she sees his face.

He looks like she’s sent him to listen to Max’s poetry sessions.

“Oh, honey, that bad?”

“It’s so boring,” he protests. “There are so many wars to learn about in their history class, they’re so primitive when it comes to their science, and even when I tried to fuck up my math class, I still wound up being the smartest in the room.”

She takes a long moment to assess him because there’s a fine line between Michael legitimately complaining about a situation and putting on an annoyed show so he can get out of it. Unfortunately, she suspects this might be the former. 

“Was there anything worthwhile?” 

Michael looks like he’s about to snap and insist that the whole thing had been a wash, but then he pauses. “Yeah,” he admits. “Actually.” He ducks his chin to his chest, and when he looks up, there’s her shy little boy who’s about to ask her for a present without wanting to seem selfish. It’s been so long since she’s seen that face that she’s willing to buy him anything he asked for.

Of course, she’s not about to tell him that.

“The music class was incredible,” he raves. “They have this instrument called a guitar that’s kind of like our stringed instruments and when one of the kids in class played, it was like my head went quiet.”

She knows all about the noise in their heads. For the longest time when he’d been a little boy, she’d used their connection along with lullabies and music to calm him, a rhythmic hum that ebbed and flowed through their minds. 

Mara checks her watch, then her savings account, and digs out her keys. “Let’s go.”

His confusion only lasts ten minutes before she pulls up in front of the local music store. It turns out that she’s buying him a present after all. She’s been working odd jobs in both telecommunications and taking art commissions, not to mention that she has enough money from the family that she could buy him twelve of these. 

Yet, when Michael holds the acoustic guitar in his hands, you’d think they were broke and she’s used their dinner money for the week to buy it for him. It makes her feel a tender tug, knowing that even though he could’ve grown up spoiled and entitled, he’s the kind of child who still feels grateful for every small gift.

“Really?” he asks, eyes bright.

“You’re humoring me by going to school,” she says, twining her fingers through his hair as she leans in to press a kiss to his temple. “The least I can do is encourage the one thing that you found that you really like.”

Michael holds the guitar protectively close to him while she buys him what he’ll need. The whole drive home in the pick-up truck, he holds the guitar case like it’s a bomb about to explode, and she can’t help her fond smile. 

“All those years with your nose in a book and you finally looked at music,” she praises when they’re back home. She’d tried so often to get him interested in the _arts_ , but his father had wanted him to learn about strategy, their family had made sure he learned duty, and the planet had taken that genius brain of his and exploited it for science.

Mara’s love of culture, the arts, and music had fallen to the wayside.

Until now, she thinks triumphantly. 

“Tell me about your day,” she says, digging food out of the fridge while Michael stares at the guitar, polishing it with the reverence of someone who’s just discovered the most precious thing in the world. She settles on a stool to watch him, though maybe she should have asked about this before she gave him the gift. “Michael,” she says, throwing almonds at him and smirking when she manages to get one stuck in his curls.

He swats it away, giving her an annoyed look. “I already told you,” he complains. “Math and science are boring. Even their AP Physics program is what I was doing when I was eight, but I guess I’m not supposed to let the earthlings know that I could reinvent their whole space shuttle program.” He leans over to steal an almond, using it to gesture at her. “I mean, I could, if you want me to, I could always use a hobby.”

She gives him his answer in the form of a disapproving glare.

“Okay, no trips to NASA.”

He’s clearly been doing his own research, because he’s picking up idioms and slang that he hadn’t known before, which is good. “What about the people?” she prods. “Did you make any friends?”

“You mean did I walk up to anyone on the first day and plead with them to be my friend?” He scoffs, and while she’s known that getting Michael to make friends would be a difficult endeavor, she had been hoping someone might approach _him_. “Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t have a BFF.” 

“You can’t sit around and spend three years not making any friends,” she chides. “Isobel and Max are always going to be there, but even they’re your family and…”

“And, what? Back home, I don’t have friends because everyone’s worried someone’s going to use me for political gain,” he cuts her off, strumming the strings. He sounds resigned, not bitter, and it breaks Mara’s heart to hear that defeat in her son’s voice. “I’m only here for three years. What’s the point in making friends if I’m going to leave?” 

She wants to argue with him, but something stops her.

It’s the way he’s not looking at her in the eye. It’s how his cheeks have gone just a little red, and it’s how he stops fidgeting with the guitar every few moments to pause, like he’s thinking about something. Something or _someone_.

Maybe the first day had surprised Michael in ways that he’s not ready to talk about, but she has time to pry later. She has three whole years to find out what that look on his face means. 

What she doesn’t consider is that she’d said _friends_ , but her son isn’t the child that he used to be. He’s sixteen and as much as he’s had his head buried in the sand of his studies, she can’t assume it’ll be like that forever. Maybe Mara should be asking if there are any girls that he’s interested in to see if that pink flush on his cheeks comes back.

Or maybe, _she’s_ the one not ready to admit her baby boy is growing up and that’s why she settles in to eat while Michael tries to figure out how to play the guitar. 

If he can wait, then so can she. Though, it’s not going to be forever, she knows that. 

“It matters because you need a connection other than your mother,” she says after a few moments, wanting him to understand how important this is to her. “Are you really going to be _that_ kid?” 

Michael makes a face, but it seems to do the trick. He’s still ducking his head down, but she catches him mumbling. Mara gives him an expectant look, hand cupping her ear as she leans in, a dramatic pantomime that does the trick.

“Fine!” he snaps. “I’ll try and make friends, but if they end up hating me, I get to say I told you so.”

“You absolutely can,” she agrees. 

Mara has a funny feeling he’s never going to get the chance.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s been a week since Michael first brought home the guitar and since then, he’s been dying for a chance to practice. Playing at home had been an option until nerves had kicked in and he hadn’t wanted to play where his mother could hear until he was _better_ at it. 

So he’s brought it to school, taking advantage of his free period before lunch in the music room, guitar in hand. He’s still terrible at it, which frustrates the hell out of him. He’s always taken for granted how easy things come to him, but he can’t use his big brain to figure out how to play the guitar any faster. 

His fingers are rough and calloused and they ache like crazy, but he’s stupidly determined to get through these chords so he can at least try and play a song, just like Alex Manes had played that first music class.

The other boy had caught Michael’s eye that day. With only a few chords, Michael had felt as serene as he does when he’s mapping a new formula or solving a complex equation. Then, he’d started singing, him taking the lead with Maria harmonizing, and it had been the most beautiful thing Michael’s ever heard. 

He’s trying to play the chords to that song, determined to learn even though he’s only owned the guitar for a few days now. When he fucks up another chord, he lets out a frustrated shout. “Damn it!” he shouts, and he’s so close to pitching the guitar across the room with his powers, only stopped by the sound of the door being unlatched.

“Guerin?”

He startles and it’s a miracle he doesn’t end up dropping the guitar. It’s probably just as much of a miracle that he doesn’t use his powers to stabilize it, because having to call in his mother to help him erase some human’s memories is not the kind of thing he wants happening in his first month on earth.

He breathes out slowly and stares at Alex Manes, standing just inside the door of the music room. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I heard music in the hallway and a _lot_ of profanity,” he teases, settling down on the table beside Michael, gesturing to the guitar. “That’s a nice guitar. New?”

“Yeah, my Mom bought it for me after class last week,” he says proudly, not sure he wants to tell Alex about the part where he’d wanted it because of how _deeply_ Alex had made him feel when he’d played. All the chaos in his head that’s constantly hurtling around had gone quiet, something that usually only happened in the middle of one of his working sessions when an equation came together the right way. Alex Manes had made it happen with a single song.

Alex pushes to his feet and grabs his guitar from where he stores it between classes, gesturing between them. “Do you care if I…”

“No,” Michael hurriedly responds. “No, it’s fine.”

Any chance to hear Alex play again is a chance he plans to take. He settles down in the chair opposite Michael, but he rests his guitar so that it’s leaning against the piano, dragging his chair closer. The legs scrape against the tiles, and Michael tries not to feel anxious about the fact that someone is going to know how bad he is at this.

He’s the golden child genius of Antar, he’s not supposed to be a fuck up.

Yet, when Alex looks at him, there’s an encouraging smile on his lips and he doesn’t look like he cares at all that Michael isn’t a prodigy. “Do you mind if I…?” he trails off, gesturing to Michael’s hands.

He feels himself shaking his head, staring at Alex as he reaches between them and takes Michael’s hands into his own. Alex takes Michael’s left hand and moves it to the neck of the guitar, the other at the strings near the hollow. His hands are warm and soft on Michael’s, his thumb brushing over his palm as he settles them where he wants them.

_Breathe_ , Michael reminds himself, and tells himself that nothing is going to go wrong. Trust in complete strangers is new to him, something that security forces and his father had tried to drum out of him, but Alex feels inherently trustworthy. 

“Okay,” Alex says excitedly, reaching for his own guitar. “Let’s start with E Minor,” he says, his black-varnish coated nails sliding over the strings to show Michael where to place his fingers. He doesn’t even wait for Michael to try before he’s reaching over and covering Michael’s fingers with his own, applying pressure and warmth.

Something in his stomach twists funnily when Alex does that, and not just because he’s leaning in so close that Michael can smell the scent of his body wash. 

He closes his eyes, barely noticing that he hasn’t played a single chord, but the noise in his head has been replaced with a quiet hum, Alex’s voice cutting through it. “Okay, not bad, now you just want to…”

He leans back and strums his own guitar, jolting Michael back to reality as soon as he’s out of his space.

What the fuck is wrong with him? 

Michael shakes himself out of it with a short push of breath, mimicking Alex and playing his first decent chord since he’d picked up the guitar. Beaming, he can feel the warmth of the joy cascading through him. “Yeah, that’s pretty good,” Alex agrees, leaning over to shift Michael’s fingers, murmuring ‘don’t stop’, as he moves his left hand to three new strings. “And that’s C,” he says, nodding to Michael. “Go on, try and switch between the two.”

He’s not exactly about to write any songs or win musician of the year, but at least it’s stopped sounding so much like he’s trying to strangle an animal. 

“There you go,” Alex says, filling in the gaps in Michael’s playing with a slow, lilting melody, not even needing to look at his own fingers. He makes it look so easy, but then, Michael guesses that when he’s solving complex astrophysics problems, he probably looks the same. 

Michael can’t make that sound half as good as it does when Alex is playing, though. 

They play for at least half an hour. Alex teaches him a whole slew of new chords, leaning in to adjust Michael’s hands every time he does, getting so close once that the tips of his hair brush against Michael’s neck, pushing a full body shiver through him that he fights to ignore. He feels like by the end of the hour, he’s mastered at least three of the chords.

It's not so bad, considering his track record so far.

“How much do I owe you?” Michael quips, when he needs to set the guitar down, the muscles in his hand cramping. Later, he’s definitely going to try this at home with his powers to see if he can make it work like that, but for now, he works his hands open and shut to try and ease the ache. 

Alex shakes his head. “Maria would rather hang out with Liz and do their own thing so I’ve kind of lost my usual partner. I’m just happy if I have someone to play music with, if you wanted to…I mean, I’m not saying you need to, but if you wanted to do this again sometimes…”

“I have this period free,” Michael says, heart pounding in his chest. “Anytime.”

“Okay.”

The bell rings, signaling the changeover in classes, and that means it’s Michael’s lunch period. It looks like another day of sitting on the bleachers and watching whatever sport is playing on the field while he eats and works on sketches of his engine. He settles his guitar back into its case, setting it by the door so he can pick it up later, giving Alex a smile and a nod as he starts making his escape.

He doesn’t get very far, though.

“Do you want to come join me and my friends for lunch?” Alex asks Michael before he can leave. “Only if you want to. I know some of them can be a bit much, but I saw you eating on your own the last few days and I thought maybe no one else had asked?”

His first instinct is to deny the offer. What’s the use in sitting awkwardly around a bunch of humans that he doesn’t know how to talk to? It’s only the reminder of his mother’s rules that make him hesitate.

_Make friends_ , she’d insisted. _Try_.

His guilt and worry over failing his mother overrides that self-preservation instinct he’s been nurturing for years. “Why not?” After all, what’s the worst that can happen? 

Alex claps Michael’s shoulder on the way out, steering him to the picnic tables outside the baseball diamond, pointing to one side of a bench that already has people in the middle of eating their lunch, laughing and joking around.

“Hey guys, this is Michael,” Alex says, sliding onto the table opposite him.

Michael settles in, feeling really strange to not have security hovering near him like they’re worried about an assassination attempt. It’s equally weird not having Max and Isobel with him, keeping him company through everything. He waves, awkwardly, glancing around the small table as Alex makes introductions.

“Liz, Maria,” Alex says, “and Kyle,” he says, his tone growing tense.

Kyle is currently pressed snugly against Liz, his eyes flickering over Michael like he’s not so sure what to make of Alex bringing him.

“The new guy, right?” Kyle points at him. “Where’d you come from?”

“Somewhere far, far away,” Michael quips, which doesn’t seem to satisfy Kyle, who glares at him.

“It’s pretty unheard of to get a transfer in the middle of the year,” Liz says before Kyle can push, but where Kyle’s tone had been accusatory and challenging, hers is warm and curious. “At least, it is for Roswell.”

She definitely doesn’t make him want to punch her in the face the way this Kyle guy already does. “My Dad’s always working and for the last two years, I’ve been with him, but I missed my mother, so we arranged things so that I could stay with her.” He digs into his bag for the lunch she’d packed him, shuffling past the loose papers that are adorned with sketches of the new lightspeed engine he’s been working on, careful not to let any of them get out, but one of them slips, clinging to the wax paper wrapped around his sandwich.

Michael leans forward to try and grab it back before anyone else can take too long of a look, but he’s not that lucky. It’s just outside of his reach, and someone else gets to it first. 

Maria picks it up, holding it up to the light and peering at a complex architectural blueprint that’s taken him months to figure out. “You draw?”

“It’s nothing,” he says, in a hurried panic, his eyes skirting around the table, worried one of them is going to see it’s more than just idle sketches. “I get bored in class sometimes and I let my hand just draw whatever comes to mind.”

“Guerin, they’re incredible,” Alex murmurs, his voice low. He reaches across the table to slide the piece of paper back after Maria’s passed it around for everyone to look at, his thumb brushing against Michael’s for the briefest of moments.

The technology on Antar is nothing like that on earth, so to a group of humans, it’s going to look like artistic gibberish, nothing like the science that it is, but he still panics a little as he shoves it back into his bag, breathing sharply as he unwraps his sandwich. He’s really not used to socializing with kids his own age or ones who ask questions.

With Isobel and Max, he usually just stays quiet and they take that as a sign that they get to dominate the conversation. 

Michael genuinely isn’t sure he knows how to cope with being the center of attention. Luckily, Alex seems to sense his discomfort and before Kyle can prod about Michael’s drawings, he shifts the subject. “So, what did you guys think of that ridiculous test today in English?”

That sets Maria off on a rant that lasts long enough for Michael to catch Alex’s eye, mouthing _thank you_ to him for taking the heat off of him. Alex doesn’t say anything, but he nods, like he’s got Michael’s back, even though Michael isn’t sure why anyone would do that when they’ve only just met.

Friends, huh? 

Glancing around the table as he eats lunch, letting their voices wash over him and settle him down, Michael’s definitely in the midst of a new experience, but it’s not one that he totally hates. In fact, even with Kyle being kind of an ass, Maria’s prodding, and Liz’s tendency to let Kyle get away with his asshole attitude, it’s…actually, really nice.

Maybe when he’d been so adamant about not making friends, he hadn’t taken guys like Alex Manes and his friends into account. 

He opens the bag of chips and settles in to listening to Kyle telling the third story about his latest football game, muffling his laughter when Alex and Maria exchange eyerolls in synchronicity, even though Liz is hanging onto Kyle’s ever word. At least not everyone is buying into the football savior act that Kyle’s wearing. 

Yeah, he thinks, maybe it’s not so bad at all.

* * *

There’s a swarm of activity, people rushing to the gym in a great mass that has Michael tensing up. 

His instincts tell him that they’re under attack and one of their political enemies has followed him here to get some kind of leverage against Max and Isobel by going after him or his mother. Pressed up against the wall, he focuses in case he needs to use his powers, but then Liz passes and claps his shoulder. “C’mon! You’ll be late for the pep rally!”

His tension is still running high, but he’s beginning to worry less about this being an attack and it being one more of those weird earth customs that don’t make any sense to him.

While everyone heads to the gym, Michael’s instinct tells him that instead, he should drift in the other direction. Maybe he can go to the music room and play or maybe he can head home and spend some more time working on the ship. Even though he has no plans to go anywhere for a while, it’s good to have it ready in the case of an emergency. 

He slings his backpack over his shoulder, keeping his head down as if he can avoid being seen, but it also means he’s not looking where he’s going.

“Hey! Watch it!”

He mumbles his apology and ducks to the side to keep moving, but whoever he crashed into grabs at his wrist.

“Guerin?”

Michael looks up to see Alex holding onto him. In the thrum of noise, he hadn’t even realized that he’d run right into him. Now, he’s holding onto Michael, his fingers splayed over his wrist, where he’ll be able to feel the panicked thrum of his heartbeat.

“You’re going in the wrong direction,” Alex says, nodding towards the sea of people. “Come on,” he encourages. Michael trudges after him, mainly because he has no idea what he’s in for. 

When he gets there, he finds himself gaping. 

They’re sitting as close to the exit as possible, but it’s still the most unnerving sight that he’s ever seen. The frantic buzz in the room _feels_ like an attack is about to happen and for someone who’s been in a few raids in his younger years, he finds himself gripping the pine of the bench beneath him as tightly as someone who’s bracing himself for violence. 

His tension clearly doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Do they not have pep rallies where you come from?” Alex asks. Even though they’re sitting at the furthest corner, he still has to shout for Michael to hear him above the chaos. 

They have rallies that happen before their army goes off to a new battle in a different solar system that his father had made him be present for since he was twelve. They have royal functions where he’s expected to stand there and smile and be polite even if he’s only a cousin to the actual ruling lineage. They don’t have teenage girls rustling paper together while the noise level seems to increase to a threatening decibel. They don’t have the sports teams being lauded like they’re fighting for something worthwhile. 

“Definitely not,” he guarantees, plugging one ear. “Do you want to get out of here?” he pleads, trying to get back to his original plan of escaping before a panic attack sets in at how it’s too much,

He's not expecting Alex to agree, but he does.

Where they’re sitting, it’s not difficult to slide out the gym doors. Alex leads the way, bringing them to the bleachers. With everyone else inside the gym (apart from the couple of others who had the same idea as them, but went to the parking lot to smoke), it’s eerily quiet outside. Alex grabs a seat at the end of the bleachers and settles back on his elbows, eyeing Michael curiously. 

“Where _are_ you from? I mean, your Mom’s been here for years, but what about before that?”

“All over, really,” Michael lies. He hates using the cover story, but it’s kind of the only one that works and doesn’t get people involved. “My dad’s in the military.” The trouble with this story is that he can only ever tell the fictitious version, since while it’s true that his father commands the entire planet’s army, that’s the issue. It’s a _planet_ and it’s so far from earth that he’d need to fly to one of the most high-powered telescopes just to get a glimpse of Dad. 

“Really? Mine too,” Alex replies, but he doesn’t seem excited about that. Instead, he’s ducked his head down, fidgeting with the frayed hem of his sweater. “Is yours, uh, is he…”

“Is he what?”

True, Michael doesn’t have the best relationship with his father, but that’s mainly because he’s been _absent_ from most of the milestones of Michael’s life. It’s hard to build something when you’re basically talking to blank space because there’s always a training campaign or a battle or some royal emergency that takes precedent.

Honestly? The worst part about it is that Michael gets it.

He’d been working with the science program on Antar since he was fourteen and he knows exactly what they’re up against when those emergencies strike. It makes it really hard to hate your Dad for not being around when you know that he’s doing it to try and save the lives of everyone on the planet, including his own. 

“Nothing,” he dismisses, but then seems to panic a little, a look on his face Michael can’t place. “I guess I mean, is he expecting you to follow in his footsteps?” 

“No,” Michael guarantees, though he had for a while. When he was little, they all talked about him becoming the next commander of the army when his father retired, but as soon as it became clear that his intellect was his chief talent, they figured out a different path for him and he doubts that he’ll ever be allowed off it, once he goes back. “You? Are they expecting you to join the…” He pauses. “Sorry, which branch?”

“Air Force,” Alex says, fidgeting with the rings he’s wearing. “I have three older brothers who did, so, I’m pretty sure he’s already got the papers drawn up.”

“I take it that’s not what you want, huh? I’ve heard people talk about gruesome injuries more enthusiastically than you are about following in the family footsteps,” Michael replies, and he gets it. It’s lucky that he _likes_ working with the science advisors. If he didn’t, he can only imagine the ridiculous antics he’d go through to escape it. 

Then again, here he is on a three-year reprieve, so he’s not so bad at figuring out ways to get away, when it boils down to it. 

“I want to make music, I don’t want to go fight someone else’s war.”

Michael, who’s had supportive parents all his life (even if absent), isn’t sure what the issue is. “Can’t you tell him that you don’t want to follow in your brothers’ footsteps? I mean, three’s enough, a fourth kid doing the same thing? Why don’t you tell him that you want to make music, instead?”

From the look on Alex’s face, it looks more like Michael’s insulted him gravely instead of offering a suggestion. The sadness is palpable and even though Michael’s powers don’t really lean towards the empathic, even _he_ feels it radiating off Alex, so he definitely fucked up.

He just doesn’t understand how.

“That’s not going to happen,” Alex says evenly, his voice subdued.

Michael would push, normally. If this were Max or Isobel, he’d probably pick at them until they actively tried to shut him up with their powers, but that aching sadness is still radiating from Alex and suddenly Michael wants nothing more than to make it go away. He already knows that he needs to drop the subject of the future, which works out better for both of them.

After all, Alex might not want to talk about his path, but Michael also doesn’t want to shine a light on the fact that he doesn’t intend to plan for a future on earth. He suspects that won’t go over so well with both the Roswell High guidance counsellor, but also the group he’s starting to think of as his friends.

“Hey,” he says, on his feet and gesturing for the parking lot. “You got any plans?”

Alex shakes his head, but he still seems subdued, his energy lagging from whatever it is about talking about his family and his future has gotten him down. 

“After Liz keeps talking up her Dad’s milkshakes at the Crashdown, I feel like I have to try them out,” he says, and part of his offer is genuine. He’d been planning to go with his Mom, but she kept putting him off for her latest project, seeing as she’s been driving back and forth to Santa Fe to meet some other Antarians for parts and advice. “You wanna,” he starts, lips curving up hopefully, “come with me?”

Alex finally looks up from the hem of his shirt, making eye contact with Michael for the first time since they started talking about their fathers. 

“I’m paying,” Michael says to sweeten the pot.

“Okay,” Alex finally relents, a smile breaking through the pain on his face like the sun through the clouds. “Only if you let me show you the genius of dipping Crashdown fries in a chocolate shake.” 

That sadness is lingering around Alex’s body like a shadow even if he’s smiling, but by the time they’re eating at the Crashdown, it’s melted off him, leaving nothing but relief and happiness in its wake.

It stays like that until Michael drops Alex home that night, when it returns with a vengeance.

“I’ll see you at school,” Alex says through a forced smile, tugging his backpack on and rushing inside before Michael can even say a proper goodbye or ask if they’re meeting tomorrow to practice in the music room during free period.

“Yeah, at school,” Michael agrees, trying to shake the uncomfortable feeling haunting him.

It’s only when he’s lying in bed later that he realizes why he feels so discomfited. 

It’s not that the sadness had been back in Alex when he’d dropped him off, though it had been there. This isn’t about the fact that Michael’s upset because Alex had been haunted by that feeling ever since they began to talk about their fathers. It’s that it had been present with something else lingering around it that tasted and felt a lot like fear.

And, honestly? Michael’s paralyzed when it comes to what he’s supposed to do about that, if he’s meant to do anything.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks, please be warned that there is a TW for abuse in this chapter, as Jesse is making his story debut and we all know that's never good news, so please be warned.

It’s two weeks later and Michael comes home from school with a boy in his wake. Mara sips her tea with an amused smile, proud of him for making a friend that he’s willing to bring with him and instantly curious about who this boy is. 

Michael’s wearing one of those awful greasy t-shirts that she can’t convince him out of because his love for tinkering with machines is as passionate as ever. Ever since she’d introduced him to the junkyard in town, he makes time every night for a hobby that leaves him with smears of grease and oil all over his clothes, not to mention her washing machine. At this rate, she’ll need to buy him his own washer to avoid her own clothes being ruined by streaks of grease. 

“Clean up,” is the first thing she says, shoving a towel his way while she turns her gaze on the boy.

 _Mom_ , she hears through their connection. _Be nice to him._

She’s glad to know that he’s following her direction, that the warning is intended because she’s about to be alone with the boy. Michael lets him know that he’ll be back in a bit, which means that Mara is left alone with a boy that’s come trailing behind Michael like a duckling following its mother. 

Nice. She can do nice. 

“I’m Mara Guerin,” she introduces herself, her eyes bright as she extends her hand, willing him to shake hers. It’s polite, of course, but it will also give her the opportunity to skim his mind and make sure that he bears no ill feelings towards Michael.

He steps forward, and it takes an awkward second for him to shake her head, eyeing it warily for a moment. “Alex Manes,” he introduces himself with a nervous smile.

She holds onto his hand, rubbing her thumb over his palm as she slips inside of his mind. She won’t go deep, she never has (the human psyche unnerves her, after all), but she only sees admiration, respect, and _hope_ in Alex when it comes to Michael. She could go deeper, follow those emotions to see what else is lurking there, but she’s seen enough to know that he’s no threat.

It probably wouldn’t be very wise of her to send this friend of Michael’s running when she’s the one who’d been prodding for Michael to make connections.

“Do you want something to drink?” she asks, gesturing to the kitchen. “Michael’s become very fond of lemonade, the sugary the better, I could pour you a glass?”

For all that his intentions towards Michael are positive, she can read the tension and the nerves radiating off him as loudly as if he were screaming. She can hear the shower starting, which means that she and Alex will have some time to talk, though if Alex remains this tense, she suspects he’ll bolt outside to wait for Michael if she’s not careful.

She’s not sure _why_ he’s so nervous, but she supposes it’s a new house, he’s meeting a stranger, and there’s any number of reasons for his caution.

“He hasn’t told me about any of his school friends or what’s been going on,” Mara says, pouring two glasses of lemonade, deciding to dive right in. “What’s the going rate for information these days?” she asks teasingly, sliding the glass across the counter to Alex with a challenging lift of her brow. “I’ve got deep pockets, I’m sure I could pay.”

That seems to break through some of that wall that Alex is putting up. “He hasn’t said anything?” 

Does she detect a hint of hurt in his voice? She thinks so, which is very sweet that Alex is already offended that Michael hasn’t talked about him.

“My son has a bad habit of coming home, dropping his things in a messy pile, and hiding in his work.” Whether it be the garage to work on the ship or his room to play the guitar and to study earth culture, she hasn’t seen as much of Michael as she would’ve liked, but he seems happy. 

Alex palms the glass of lemonade, sitting back like he’s sitting on a secret or two.

“I think I could tell a few stories.”

“I had a feeling we’d get along,” she says, and sits opposite him. “Now, I’ve met you, but there are others?”

“There are,” Alex confirms. “I brought him to lunch one day when I caught him eating alone. I always saw him eating lunch out at the field, so I figured he needed some friends. It’s been really good. Liz likes having someone to talk to who’s as interested in science as she is, and he lets Maria read his palm and do his hair…”

Well, that explains why her son had come home with a flower crown woven into his curls, telling her not to ask.

“There’s also Kyle, but he and Michael don’t really get along and I don’t know why…” 

“It’s because he’s a dick,” Michael’s voice cuts into the conversation. He’s toweling at his wet hair, storming into the room in a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt that looks like it actually might not be grease-spotted, which is an improvement. Given that the shower had only started a few minutes ago, he must have rushed through it to be out this fast.

She suspects Michael’s nervous about what Alex might say about him. Or is it her that he’s worried about, giving away embarrassing stories?

“Seriously, I don’t know why you guys let him hang out with you. Don’t you hear the things he says about you with the football douchebags?”

Alex flinches slightly, and his gaze slides off Michael (where he’d been staring at his wet hair and face from where it had been partially obstructed). Mara gives her son a sharp look, but Michael shrugs like he doesn’t care. Apparently, subtlety is going to be a topic they cover as part of his lessons in how to behave like a normal earthling. If he’s not careful, she’s going to bring in someone from the Antarian sect to teach him how to be a proper prince who understands _tact_.

“He’s not so bad and he’s dating Liz,” Alex replies, standing up to Michael easily enough. “You want me to tell Liz that we don’t want her boyfriend hanging out with us just because he can be an ass to me?”

“ _Yeah_ ,” Michael retorts, like that’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Alex rolls his eyes. “Has he always been this stubborn?” he asks Mara.

“You have no idea,” she replies, and leans over to ruffle Michael’s hair, smirking when he pushes back and tries to tame it. Still, he clearly isn’t so offended that he’s about to run away. “When he was little, he decided that everything we were doing around the house was wrong and he was going to come up with a brand new system to improve our lives.”

Alex gives Michael an amused look. “You wanted to taskmaster your parents?”

“We always ate dinner late,” Michael protests. “I had a better schedule so we could always have it ready on time.”

“He was four,” Mara says serenely, “and we had help with dinner, it was just that it was never to my darling cherub’s liking.” Seeing as they had a staff of three who had helped them with dinner, but Michael had thrown fits when his parents worked late and his dinner had to be late as a consequence. She still has the blueprints for ‘an earlier dinner’ framed in her room. 

She also still remembers the fight she had with her husband after that, when they’d both realized that with both of them working so much, other parts of their life were suffering as a result. She doesn’t want to think about how they didn’t really improve it so much as make the problem worse, going their own ways and letting Michael eat dinner alone, at the earlier time he’d wanted.

Michael’s turned out seemingly fine, though, so maybe they haven’t made a complete mess of it. 

“Sit,” she coaxes Michael, standing up so she can pat her place. He takes it and Mara replaces her glass with a new one for Michael, lingering long enough to learn about this Alex Manes, but not long enough to overstay her welcome.

She uses her latest piece as an excuse to leave, heading to her workshop where she can absently work on it while eavesdropping and wondering why it is that only Alex has come over instead of this Liz or Maria or Kyle. From the sounds of it, Michael gives Alex some tutoring in psychics before Alex talks about music composition with him. 

Maybe the others hadn’t needed any of that help?

Or maybe those nerves of Alex’s that she’d read off him are the kind where he wants something more from her son. Mara’s going to have to play it by ear. 

Whatever reason that Alex is here where the others aren’t doesn’t seem to matter when she hears Michael’s laughter ring out. He sounds as happy as she’s ever heard him and that includes when he’s around her. She’ll be jealous later that she’s no longer the only thing in the world that gives her son that much joy, but for now she’ll settle with the relief that he’s finding friends.

Checking her watch, she heads out to the main room to find them sitting next to one another, their shoulders brushing at times, their heads buried in textbooks. “Alex, do you mind vegetarian lasagna?” she asks, seeing as it’s nearly dinner time and she needs to get preparing. 

He looks up in a panic. “What?”

“For dinner,” Mara says. “I’m assuming you’re going to stay?”

He checks his watch and his panic seems to multiply. “No, I was supposed to be home a half an hour ago, I…shit.” He’s breathing harder and starting to panic, which hits her like an onslaught of tidal waves. 

“I’ll drive you home,” Michael assures, flipping his book shut, not sensing Alex’s panic (or not reacting visibly to it). “C’mon, grab your things and I’ll get the keys.”

While Alex nods, he clearly hasn’t lost any of that panic and tension, which is sending up all kinds of red flags for Mara that she’s beginning to worry about, but at the same time, it could just be that he’s not happy that he’s late. For all her years on earth, she’s still not as skilled in reading the motivations behind their emotions as she’d like to be.

“Thanks for coming over and showing me that Michael’s made some friends,” Mara says, stepping forward so she can hug Alex to say goodbye and to show that he’s always welcome in their house. She’s always been quick to affection, open with her gestures, and chooses to put positive vibes out in the world; it doesn’t even occur to her that she shouldn’t offer a quick embrace. Alex stiffens up, flinches imperceptibly, but eventually he melts into the hug, burying his face into Mara’s shoulder for the briefest of seconds before he pulls back, like he’s just remembered he’s a teenaged boy and hugging his parent’s friends is a social misstep.

She sees Michael out of the corner of her eye and wonders how long he’d been standing there.

“I’ll be back soon,” Michael says, leaning in to press a kiss to Mara’s cheek on his way out. “Don’t let the lasagna get cold,” he jokes, pressing a hand to Alex’s back as he gently guides him out the door, when Alex freezes for just a second and Mara wonders if she’ll be setting an extra place after all.

She watches the both of them go and gets dinner in the oven to cook, bustling around the house to tidy up after the boys and herself. Once everything is in progress, she heads outside to the porch, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders as she settles in to wait for Michael’s return. He’s back half an hour later once Alex has safely been delivered to the Manes residence. She waits for him, because she wants him to know how proud she is that he’s gone and made friends, but there’s also something else on her mind and she knows that Michael is expecting the topic.

They’re eating dinner when she brings it up, when both of them have grown fed up with the sound of cutlery scraping the china, because neither of them want to bother with small talk when she knows they’ve both got the same thing on their minds.

“He flinched, when I hugged him,” Mara says calmly.

“I know,” Michael agrees, a troubled look on his face.

“Is he okay, Michael?”

Her son breathes out slowly and she can see his mind working the problem. “That, I don’t know.”

Neither does she, but Mara also doesn’t know what she can do about it. For now, she resolves to keep an eye on Alex, knowing that Michael isn’t going to let anything terrible happen to his friend. She’ll just the backup in case they need a little extra force and until then, she intends to make sure that Alex always knows he has a safe place at the Guerin house.

* * *

It’s been five minutes since Michael dropped him off at home and Alex has yet to go inside. 

He’s late. He was supposed to be home an hour ago and he’s late. He’d been enjoying spending time with Michael, watching how quickly he’s taken to music composition, how he’d helped Alex with his math and science work, and he’d basked in the fact that Michael did it without making him feel stupid. Honestly, all that was just icing on top of the cake, because the truth is, he could have spent his whole time looking at Michael Guerin because he likes it so much. Its something he’s been trying hard not to think about, because of the consequences for feelings like that.

Now, here he is outside the front door, trying desperately to get his courage up and instead, he keeps faltering back into memories of the last few hours.

Alex closes his eyes and thinks about the way Michael’s lips curve up when he’s happy, how he exudes a nervous warmth, and the strong way his hands move when he’s playing the guitar. Then, Alex reminds himself that under his father’s roof, he’s not supposed to be feeling these things. It’s never going to be _good_ in the Manes house, but when Alex sits down and shuts up about who he is, he can escape the abuse.

The trouble is that his father seems to have a sixth sense for sniffing out when Alex’s interest turns into something more, so maybe he’s not very good at hiding it from his face. The last few weeks as he’s been getting to know Michael means that he’s already probably broadcasting his interest. 

Now, he’s late and his father has a firm excuse to punish him.

Alex decides to try the back door. He knows that dinner will already be packed away and done and his absence will have been noticed. The goal here is to make it upstairs without his father realizing, because if he has to deal with the consequences, he’d much rather do it in the morning when Jesse has calmed down slightly from the perceived slight against his rules when it comes to Alex having a crush on another boy and the actual slight in missing dinner and his curfew.

Now, more than ever, Alex misses his Mom. Ever since she’d left, he’d told himself that if she were still around, he wouldn’t be beaten, he wouldn’t have his father try and strip parts of him away just because they didn’t fit the Manes Man narrative his Dad wanted so badly to write. He can’t be sure of that, but he needs something to cling to in the darker moments.

Alex gets the key in the lock and opens the back door with no issues. It’s not that he sneaks in often, but he’s paranoid enough to know how to stay quiet. He tightens his backpack’s straps as he turns to navigate the kitchen in the dark, heart pounding so loudly that he can hear it in his ears.

He makes it past the kitchen chairs and table with ease, even gets to the bottom of the stairs, but that’s when his luck runs out.

His dad’s sitting in the living room, and the minute Alex’s foot hits the creak in the second stair, he turns the light on, flooding the room with the lamp’s yellow hues. Alex inhales shakily and takes off his bag, letting it slide down to the ground as he steels himself to abandon his dignity and beg for forgiveness. 

“You’re late.”

Alex turns and starts to think about the right lie he could use. He can’t say he was with Kyle, because Jesse and Jim are too close, but maybe one of the girls? It might even go over well, because then his father could blindly pretend that maybe Alex has a crush on one of them.

There’s a problem there, too.

Jesse will know Liz had been working at the Crashdown with Rosa, that Maria had been helping her Mom at the bar and then his punishment will be worse because then Alex will have broken the rules _and_ lied to him.

“I was doing my homework,” he says, pointing to the bag on the ground. “The last few classes in physics have been kind of hard, so I was having a friend help me with the concepts, and we just lost track of time.”

Jesse says nothing, but he rises from the chair.

“Which friend? I didn’t think any of your friends had that kind of talent for physics?” his Dad asks as he steps closer.

Alex feels paralyzed in place, wishing that he had a normal father who would be grateful that their son has someone to tutor them when it’s needed.

As it stands, he has Jesse Manes. He has a father that he needs to worry about so much that Alex is already trying to figure out how to tell him about a new friend without it resulting in Alex being _punished_ somehow for it.

“It’s a new kid,” Alex says.

“And the new kid’s name?”

Sometimes, Alex wishes that his father were dumber. At least then he wouldn’t have noticed that Alex hasn’t mentioned ‘he’ or ‘she’ when it comes to the new friend, because he already knows what’s going to happen. It doesn’t matter that they’re only friends, it doesn’t matter that Alex is the only one with a stupid crush, it’s _not going to matter_ and Alex is already bracing himself for how much it’s going to hurt.

“Michael Guerin, his mother is Mara, she lives in the two-story house on the outskirts of town near the junkyard and…” Alex is rambling, trying to bury Michael’s name under an avalanche of other information in the hopes that his father doesn’t fixate on the fact that his new friend is a boy.

The way Jesse clenches his fists isn’t a good sign.

“Michael,” he echoes. “Why were you late?”

“I lost track of time, that’s all, we were working on homework,” Alex pleads, “his Mom was there the whole time.”

Alex already knows that there’s no point arguing with someone who’s already made up his mind and Jesse’s mind had cemented the minute Alex had told him his new friend’s name. Alex is frozen in place, but Jesse is still moving, and what happens next is inevitable because it always happens under this roof.

It's Jesse’s home, Jesse’s roof, and under it, Alex is supposed to follow the rules and be something he’s not. He breaks them every single day by virtue of being himself and refusing to compromise. Jesse grabs him by the shoulders, the oncoming force of his anger manifesting in the way he shoves Alex with his grip. 

Alex’s back hits the wall and he’s winded, momentarily, the shock draining any kneejerk reaction to fight back. 

“You’d better not be going down that road again,” is his father’s calm warning. “I thought we already addressed your poor choices.”

Alex is breathing in shakily, his nostrils flaring, and even though he’s raging, he’s on the cusp of crying because he wants to think that he won’t come home one day and fear this. He wants a home where he doesn’t worry about telling his father about his male friends. “It’s not a choice! It has nothing to do with choice, Dad, I’m _gay_ ,” he spits out, even though he’s in the worst possible position to be making a stand.

His Dad presses him against the wall a little harder, reaching for his belt, even as Alex’s eyes fall to it, ready to beg and plead.

“It’s like Kyle Valenti all over again, isn’t it?”

“He’s a friend, Dad they’re both just my friends,” Alex protests, knowing that he’s lying. He’d had a crush on Kyle ages back and he doesn’t think that his feelings for Michael are the kind that you have for your friends.

Right now, he’d say just about anything to avoid the lash of the belt on his skin, though.

“Promise me that you’re going to make an effort to be _normal_ ,” Jesse insists, the pressure of his forearm digging into Alex’s throat, cutting off his breath. He’s going to bruise there if he’s not careful, and he’s not sure what explanation he can give for this one. At least when he has a black eye or other bruises, he can pretend he’s just been roughhousing with his brothers.

“I promise,” he ekes out, the words barely more than a breath.

Jesse releases him, his eyes scanning Alex’s face like he’s trying to detect the lie, but he seems to accept Alex’s promise. “Go to your room,” he says flatly. “You missed dinner and since you were late, you’ll go to bed without it.”

Though his stomach rumbles and he knows he’ll be starving come morning, he takes the punishment, because it could have been so much worse.

Alex doesn’t give Jesse a chance to change his mind. He bends down to grab his backpack and takes the stairs two at a time, closing the bedroom door behind him. Alex turns, pressing his back to it, a hand clapped over his mouth to stifle the hyperventilating breaths he’s taking. His back will ache for a day or two, but he’s not bruised. He’ll be hungry come the morning, but Maria will sneak him breakfast the way she always does during first period, like she somehow _knows_ when he needs it.

It could have gone much worse, and Alex’s life is the kind where he feels like it’s been a good day when it’s only as bad as it had been tonight. 

He takes his time settling his things away, grabbing his guitar before he heads to bed, knowing he can’t actually play (or he’ll risk his father’s wrath which gets worse every time he hears Alex play, a reminder of the career he actually wants), but he can slide his fingers over the strings, miming a melody he can at least imagine. It calms him down a little, but definitely not enough.

He falls asleep in bed that night, fingers absently dangling off the bed and touching the wood of his guitar. His body is shaking because he hates that he’d lied to his father to avoid being beaten, knowing that he definitely doesn’t only think of Michael as a friend, and somehow he feels like he’s betrayed both himself and Michael with that lie.

Then again, the other boy hasn’t reciprocated any of his interest or even flirted back with him. He's friendly and there are these _moments_ where Alex thinks maybe he might feel something back, but then it’s gone. Maybe it’s like Kyle all over again. Maybe there’s nothing there.

Still, he’d lied about it to his father to avoid the damage.

That night, he dreams of Michael being taken away from him and wakes up in the morning with his cheeks wet with tears. He’s starving, as expected, but it’s a new day, and he’ll get to see Michael at school to chase away the nightmare.

One more day. He can do this.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks endlessly to [estel_willow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/estel_willow/pseuds/estel_willow) for helping to beta this chapter while my brain fights off some lovely allergy meds!

Michael’s been at Roswell High for over a month, and he’d actually venture far enough to say that things are actually going pretty well. They’re _normal_ , which is kind of what he’s been aiming for, considering he’s the furthest thing from it. Still, no one suspects him of being an alien, he thinks he has a group of solid friends, and he’s starting to see why his Mom likes this place so much.

That sense of comfort goes off the rails on Friday. It’s right after fourth period, and suddenly he’s hit with a question that has him wondering if he needs to worry about alerting his mother that the humans are onto them and they need to run. 

“Hey Guerin. It’s just you and your mother at your house, right?”

Michael closes his locker to find Maria leaning against the heavily graffitied one beside his, looking at him like she’s intending to solve a problem and somehow he’s part of her intended solution. Why she’d be caring about his living situation sparks some suspicion, but then, she can’t know about him and his mom being aliens. There’s totally a normal reason behind that question. 

Right?

Because if not, then he’s skipping the last period of the day, packing up the ship, and getting them the fuck out of there before anyone realizes that the Guerins aren’t just your average family, but little green men hiding in plain sight. 

“Hi Maria, it’s nice to see you too Maria, how’s everything Maria?” Michael narrates to her, trying his best to steady his wild heart. 

She narrows her eyes at him, unflinching. “It’s Alex’s birthday next week and we need a place to host the party.”

He leans back against his locker with relief, aware that he’s suddenly gone from holding all his tension in his shoulders to relaxed and easy, but Maria can interpret that however she likes. If she wants it to take it as Michael enjoying the conversation when it switches to Alex, she totally can. 

It’s not too far from the truth, anyway. 

He's a little confused by why this is coming up, though. “Why can’t we have the party at Alex’s house?”

The ensuing silence is awkward and Michael knows instantly that the reason they can’t is dark and ugly and big. Maybe this is why he’d flinched when his Mom had hugged Alex and why he always got kind of weird when they talked about their families. Maybe this is why Alex had lingered on the porch, not going inside right away when Michael had dropped him off. 

Maybe Michael needs to take some of that genius brain of his and focus on problems that aren’t his schoolwork or upgrades to his ship.

“With Jesse and Flint around, Alex won’t have much fun if we have it there,” she dismisses, and Michael can read between the lines enough to hear that the two might not even let him have the party at the house. “It won’t be a huge party, but Liz will bring food from the Crashdown and I was going to bake a cake. We’ll bring the guitars, play music, and just have a nice night in. You willing to host?”

He knows he should ask his mother, but he doubts that she’ll be angry at him for offering up their house. “Yeah, I’m in,” he agrees warmly, until something else occurs to him. “Wait. Valenti too?”

“Yes, Michael,” Maria sighs. “Kyle is coming too.” 

Michael wants to know how the hell everyone is giving Valenti a pass just because he doesn’t say anything right to Alex’s face, but apparently that’s his own little private war to fight. Until Alex says point blank that he doesn’t want Kyle hanging out with them, then Michael has little other choice than to follow suit.

“Fine,” he allows. “I’ll ask Mom tonight, but I’m sure she won’t care.”

“Great!” Maria says, perking up. “I’ll let everyone know. Liz might bring her sister, is that okay? She’s a couple years older, but…”

Michael dismisses Maria with a wave of his hand. He knows that there’s little to nothing he can do to stop Maria once she gets going. She can bring as many people as she wants and Michael will figure out a way to explain it to his mother. 

Back home, parties had always been huge and lavish things for the royal princes and princess. For Isobel, she’d treated her birthday as the high social event of the season, enjoying her birthright and the lavishing of attention given to her. Max always endured them, but deep down, he’d also liked having all the attention on him, not to mention the respect he got from the people.

Michael had learned a long time ago that birthdays kind of suck, because when your parents are off being integral to the planet or chasing their own dreams, you get a birthday message and a gift sent to you and not much else. He’d stopped celebrating his birthday a few years back, making it a point to always be off-world or working on something so that Dad didn’t have to feel guilty about leaving his post to celebrate his son’s birthday and Mom didn’t have to think about the intergalactic time difference.

For Alex, though, he wants to help throw the best birthday party he can.

That night, he doesn’t bring it up until they’re in the middle of dinner, not because he thinks his mother is going to reject it, but because he’s kind of already said it’s going to happen. Michael also doesn’t want to give away just how important it is for him to host the party and make sure Alex gets a chance to be happy. It’s not like he’s contributing much to Alex’s birthday otherwise. 

He’s also not sure he’s ready for the conversation that’ll happen about _why_ it can’t be at Alex’s place.

“You don’t have any plans to bring the Santa Fe Antarians or any of your artist friends around next weekend, do you?” Michael asks, pushing his tagine around on his plate. It’s taken him nearly ten minutes to work up the courage to ask -- or, really, to tell her that he’s already made the decision.

“Not unless you wanted to see them. What are you asking me?”

“We need a place to host Alex’s birthday party on Saturday and we thought our place would be good because it’s so big,” Michael says, all charm and cheer.

His mother gives him an amused smirk. “You already said yes?”

“Maria said that he can’t have it at his place,” Michael goes on, dreading this because that means they’re going to talk about the _why_ of that.

He ducks his head down and focuses on eating, as if that’ll stop his mother from asking the questions he knows are coming. The silence at the dinner table keeps growing until it sits there like a third person, and finally, Michael looks up to find his mother looking thoughtfully at him.

“I didn’t go deep, but I read his surface thoughts when you brought him home,” she admits.

“And?” He knows it’s an invasion of their privacy, which is why they aren’t supposed to do it, but something is wrong there.

“He’s scared. He’s nervous about something, but I don’t know why,” she admits. “If you want, I can look deeper when we’re at the party.”

It’s Michael’s first instinct to beg her to do it, but if Alex or his friends were to ever find out what had happened, it would be the end of Michael’s friendship with them. Not that he thinks they’ll ever find out, but even the possibility scares the shit out of him. Now that he’s found friends to fill the void that not having Max and Isobel has created, he doesn’t want to do anything that might potentially lose them.

He shakes his head. “No,” he says, because, “I might go the human route on this one. Somebody knows something,” he points out, otherwise why would Maria have asked him to host the party? The trick is getting them to open up about it, and then actually doing something about it, which seems to be where everyone’s been fumbling. “For now, can we host the party?”

“My son wants to host a human’s birthday party,” she says with a laugh as she clears the plates. “Please tell me someone else is in charge of activities!” she says, settling everything in the sink to do the dishes later. “I don’t think they’ll want to play our Antarian version of birthday games.”

“I mean,” Michael deadpans, “it would be pretty hard for them to cheat at ‘pin the tail’ without our powers, but I’d be okay with that.” He grabs the last of the dishes so he can start to clean up for her, feeling the relief loosen him up. “So, it’s okay? We can host it here.”

“Yes, you can,” she agrees, shooting him a fond smile as his excitement must rush over her in waves.

He spends the night texting Maria and the group (sans Alex) that the plans are on and that someone’s got to bring Alex on Saturday. Liz volunteers, given that between her and Rosa, they’ll be able to strongarm Alex if he tries to escape – and he knows they mean literally. Michael doesn’t ask if that’s happened before, but maybe Alex is like Michael and just doesn’t like his birthday.

Valenti doesn’t say anything until Liz directly asks if he’ll be there and he texts back with a curt: yes.

Michael rolls his eyes as he shoves his phone away, wondering if he can somehow uninvite the bastard. Smiling connivingly, he thinks that he has a better idea. Sure, Valenti can come, but he plans to make sure his mother gets nice and deep inside his head, maybe plants a few ideas about easing off Alex. 

That is, if she’ll agree, which he doubts she will. 

Not for the first time, Michael thinks that he should’ve spent more time working on his powers instead of his inventions, but then, it’s never been a problem before. He falls asleep smiling, not because he’s thinking about getting revenge on Valenti for being a jackass, but because he’s thinking about how he’s planning to make Alex’s life better in whatever way he can, starting with this birthday party. 

The next week passes in a blur of plans. While he’s not really responsible for anything, he gets dragged into all of it, whether it’s helping to pick out the frosting for the cake, picking the music for the playlist, or even coming up with a realistic excuse for Alex to be kidnapped. By the time Saturday hits, he’s exhausted, and being woken by his mother holding a duster and the vacuum is the last thing he wants to see.

Michael groans and rolls over, burying his face in his pillow. “I miss Antar,” he complains. “We used to have people who did this for us.”

“You’re not a prince here, remember,” his mother says, poking his stomach with the duster. “Now help me clean, before your human friends think we live like slobs.”

Michael wants to argue that they do, because both of them prefer to let their experiments lie around and neither of them care how much space they take up or how much dust tends to collect on their things. Still, getting everything into the garage and hidden with drop cloths takes most of the morning and cleaning takes the afternoon.

By the time Maria arrives to decorate, Michael is exhausted, but helps put the cake in the fridge and lets Maria tug him around to decorate with black balloons and streamers, all to sate the young punk emo in Alex’s heart. Michael drifts away and sets up the amps and the instruments in a corner while Maria chats with his Mom and bakes the cake for the night. Sometime in the middle of their baking session, Michael falls asleep on the couch, lulled by the safety and security of the scene around him. At some point, Michael drifts himself from consciousness to notice that Valenti’s arrived, sitting in a chair next to him, texting his buddies and completely ignoring Michael. 

Asshole, thinks Michael, but he doesn’t have long to think about it.

“He’s coming!” Maria shouts, and Michael drags himself up from the couch to be a person. 

His mother is glaring at him, her gaze pointedly sliding to his clothes, a comment on his refusal to dress up, but it’s just a party at their place. Why would he? It’s not like they’ve invited the whole school, seeing as this is a party for Alex’s closest friends – and Kyle Valenti. 

Michael rolls his eyes and hops up on the table as Liz and Rosa bring Alex inside, Liz’s hands covering his eyes. “…careful, there’s a step…” she’s saying, giving them all an encouraging look. The chorus of shouts, between “Surprise!” and “Happy birthday!” isn’t overly loud, but it’s enthusiastic to make up for the lack of a crowd. 

Michael watches his mother slip out of the room to let the kids have their night, and he mouths ‘thank you’ to her, though he knows that his mother won’t be able to stay away for too long, especially not when there’s cake on the premises. Liz pries the blindfold off Alex’s face and he looks around with a stunned expression on his face. 

He enthusiastically welcomes the hugs from the girls, endures the half-hearted shoulder pat from Valenti, and then that leaves him with Michael.

“Hey, happy birthday,” Michael says, grinning nervously at him. “Hope you’re ready for a riveting night in.”

“Oh,” Alex guarantees as he grabs Michael by his shirt to haul him in for a tight hug, “I’m so ready for a night of suburban partying. As wild as you can get when you have to be home by nine.” 

Michael closes his eyes and basks in the embrace as he buries his face into the collar of Alex’s shirt, nose brushing against the metal links of his necklace as he eases back, collecting his breath as Alex heads off to investigate what they’ve got planned for him. He makes a mental note in his head, though. Nine o’clock. He needs to make sure that Alex gets home by then.

Alex and Maria set up with the guitars to play and sing for a while, giving Michael the chance to catch up with Rosa, who he finds absolutely fascinating for a human. Liz keeps having to snap at Valenti to behave, which inevitably ends with him sulking on his phone. They spend a few hours just hanging around, playing games, eating and opening Alex’s gifts. Soon, though, it’s time for the main event.

“Michael, can I see you?” his mother calls. 

He drags himself off the couch, excusing himself from his conversation about song lyrics with Rosa to head into the kitchen. The cake is on the counter with the candles and a lighter, his mother tapping it into his palm. 

“Ready?”

Michael nods, lighting the candles on the cake. Seventeen candles would probably be a fire hazard, but the giant numbered candles do the trick. He flicks the lights off with nothing more than a wink of the eye, despite his mother’s reprimanding look. 

No one’s paying attention to him, not with Alex at the center of attention.

It’s lucky that both Maria and Liz are eager to sing to Alex, serenading him loudly so Michael doesn’t have to and can focus on bringing the cake to him. In that moment, there’s no one else in the room. The lights are off and the soft candlelight softens Alex’s face, and no lack of lighting could hide how happy he is. He’s beaming and Michael feels like he’s never seen anyone so beautiful.

“…birthday to you.” ends the rousing chorus as Michael arrives at the table where Alex is sitting. 

“Make a wish, Alex,” Michael says, setting the cake down. He can feel the way the candles are illuminating his face and that same dropping feeling returns to his stomach when he catches Alex staring at him. 

Alex doesn’t even blink as he blows out the candles, his eyes fixed on Michael the whole time.

“Maybe it will come true,” his Mom says cheerfully as she hands Michael the knife to start slicing up the cake.

Michael wishes he knew why Alex looked so _sad_ , but his mother’s joking remark has finally managed to make him move his gaze off Michael, long enough for him to say, “I doubt it will, but it’s a nice thought.” Michael lets his eyes fall over Alex’s face, heart aching to know what that wish had been.

Instead, he reaches for the knife to start cutting the cake into pieces, sitting on the table while Maria talks to his mother about her newest jewelry pieces and whether she might be able to have some of them. Liz and Valenti are cuddling in the corner, which makes Michael roll his eyes, and he can see Rosa outside on her cell phone, pacing and smoking. 

It means that he doesn’t feel guilty about stealing all of the birthday boy’s time.

“So,” Michael says, angling his way towards Alex, digging his fork into the cake. “Seventeen.”

“Yeah,” Alex agrees, grinning at him. His eyes are ringed with eyeliner and while it’s not the first time, it does make Michael stare at him, noticing how the black kohl highlights his eyes. “Pretty soon I’ll have to have my life figured out or something.”

Michael, whose life had been charted out years ago, thinks that’s overrated. “You got any ideas about how that looks?”

“Some,” Alex admits, staring at Michael for a long moment before he ducks his head, sliding his fork along the plate to scrape off icing. “You know I want to move out West,” he says. “I’d love to make a career of music, whether it’s singing or just writing songs…” They’ve talked about this before and Alex’s face falls as he shakes his head. “We both know that’s not happening.”

“What about the other parts of life?” he hears himself asking. 

Alex doesn’t seem to get what he’s hinting at. “Like what?”

“I don’t know,” Michael admits, not sure why he’d even said it. “I guess, like, having someone with you while you take on the music industry.” He says it like it’s going to happen and Jesse Manes isn’t going to insist that Alex follow in his footsteps.

Alex lets out a wry scoff. “Right, because there’s a whole line of gay guys my age in Roswell knocking down my door.”

“Roswell isn’t the start and stop of the world, you know. There’s a whole universe out there.”

Alex gives Michael a wry smirk. “Are you saying there’s a little green man waiting out there for me?”

Michael feels like there’s despair and desperation in his eyes. He doesn’t know what kind of platitude he wants to give Alex to make him feel better, especially when he’s struggling to insist that someone else in the universe is out there, waiting to make Alex happy. As much as he wants Alex to be happy, he can’t make himself say it.

“Yeah, maybe,” is what he settles on. 

Michael doesn’t fill the ensuing silence, which leads to an awkward moment and then, Alex gives him a terse smile. “It doesn’t matter,” he says, sharply. “If I end up alone, then it’s fine. At least I won’t have compromised who I am.”

It's the last thing he says to him before he excuses himself, cake in hand. He watches Alex cross the room to speak to Maria, which means that his mother is out there and on the loose. He can feel her tapping at his mind, like a gentle knock on the door, and he lets her slide in. 

_He’s not upset,_ she tells him.

 _Stop reading my thoughts, Mom_ , is his mental complaint, sending her a patented annoyed teenager look, but he can’t help feeling relieved that he didn’t piss off Alex. He cuts himself a second piece of cake, this one overly large, and goes to sulk in the music corner while he watches Liz pluck at the bass. She’s not bad, seeing as she knows a few chords from hanging out with a group of music buffs.

Rosa’s back inside now, antagonizing Valenti, which makes her Michael’s favorite person. He says as much as he passes her on the way to the bathroom. “Top marks,” he praises, the sarcasm thick. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who sees the douchebag.”

“Oh, we all do, but we put up with him for Liz,” Rosa says, rolling her eyes. “She’s going to let herself get her heart broken, but I have plans for revenge if that day ever comes.”

Michael points to himself. “Count me in.”

She gives him a vicious smirk and a nod, which means suddenly Michael has a brand new ally when it comes to defending people against an idiot who thinks that just because he got popular, he has to forget his other friends. He escapes the party long enough to take a breather, taking a shot of acetone in the bathroom, mostly for courage. 

After all, he has a job to do and with the clock nearing nine, that means it’s time for him to make sure that Alex gets home safe. He washes his hands and ducks out of the bathroom to search for where Alex has wound up. 

Even though they’d ended their last conversation awkwardly, Michael isn’t going to let that stop him from his resolution to keep Alex safe. 

“Hey,” Michael says, gently tapping Alex’s elbow as he approaches him from behind where Alex is finishing up with his second slice of cake. 

Whatever happened last time had left Alex skittish and nervous at school the next day, which means that Michael wants to avoid that happening again. Maria had slipped Alex breakfast and implied that Jesse Manes ran a strict household, but Michael is starting to get a pretty clear picture of how strict those rules are and what happens if those rules are even bent just a little.

He’s not letting something happen again, if he can help it. 

Alex turns, frosting still on the corner of his lips. Michael laughs and steps in to slide his thumb over it, the warmth underneath the pad making something inside him twist, a shiver running down his spine. Alex says nothing, but his eyes are wide, and his tongue peeks out just barely to chase after Michael’s thumb once it’s gone. 

“Sorry, you had a little…” Michael babbles out, as his heart beats irregularly. “We have to get going?” he reminds him, gesturing to his watch, even as he tries to steady that awkward off-balance feeling. “Your Dad’s expecting you home by nine.”

“Yeah,” Alex breathes out. 

Michael doesn’t think it’s a trick of the light to think that the color drains from his face. It doesn’t matter. That’s why Michael’s been keeping an eye on the time. He waits at the door with his keys, letting Alex say his goodbyes to their friends. He notices the quick pace Alex sets when he checks the clock to see the minutes have kept ticking down. 

They drive mostly in silence, mainly because Michael keeps thinking he’s going to work up the bravery to ask what happens in the Manes household, then ducks away from it. If Alex wants to tell him, then he will, when he’s ready. 

It’s not a long drive and they’re there with a few minutes to spare. Michael parks at the end of the driveway, turning off the lights so nobody in the Manes house notices them idling while Michael says goodnight.

“Thanks for hosting tonight,” Alex says, shifting his bag of gifts in his hand. 

“I mean, it wasn’t much,” Michael says, trying to shake it off. Back home, they would have actual parades for birthdays and import the finest foods and presents. They’d just hung around his mother’s house playing music, games, and eating food. Isobel would have thrown a fit if they’d tried to do that for her. 

Alex’s eyes are settled low on Michael’s face, near his lips. “It was everything,” he counters, his voice low. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” Michael replies, heart skipping a beat. He wants to keep sitting here and talking, but the old clock on his dash keeps ticking away and the seconds are bleeding by. “Alex,” he says, even though he can feel himself drifting forward over the gearshift. “It’s almost nine. I think you’re about to turn into a pumpkin.”

Alex nods, staring at the clock reluctantly before he crawls out. Michael doesn’t get a hug or another word spoken, but Michael doesn’t need it. He got Alex home safe, and that’s all that matters to him. He waits until Alex has let himself in the front door and he sees the light go on in Alex’s room before he leaves at 9:01 on the dot.

It has been a good night, even if it’s nowhere near what he’s come to expect when other people’s birthdays are involved. True, he still needs to figure out what exactly is happening under Jesse Manes’ roof and he’s not sure yet why he feels so funny around Alex, but there’s no rush on either of those things just yet. 

He might not be on Earth permanently, but he’s here for long enough that he intends to get his answers.

* * *

After Alex’s birthday, Michael’s been thinking about him a lot more.

He tries to write it off as concern over his home situation, which would make sense. Michael knows that it’s bad, but he’s stuck on figuring out how to do anything about that. It’s not like he can barge in and rescue Alex when he doesn’t know what’s going on and it’s also not like Alex talks to him about what’s happening.

That’s the only reason he’s been thinking about Alex all the time. He swears.

It clearly hasn’t impacted his schoolwork though, which becomes clearer than ever when they get their biology tests back. 

“Excellent work, Mr. Guerin,” their biology teacher tells him, placing his test down on the table, grade up for everyone to see. 

_Fuck_. 

He can feel Liz’s angry glare on him, along with the rest of the class, because yet again, he’d wrecked the curve. For all that he’s been trying so hard to hide his intelligence and go under the radar, he really hadn’t thought to tank his biology test the way he has with physics and calculus. The A+ on his test isn’t great, especially because that means people are going to want to start talking to him about ‘new options’. 

How the hell is he supposed to tell them he doesn’t care about college when he already has a plan?

He shoves the test into his backpack, crumpling it up and bolting out of the room before the teacher can stop him to talk when class is over. He knows what that conversation sounds like, because he’d had it for the first time when they’d split him apart from Max and Isobel with the private tutors. 

_Special_ , they’ll say. _Destined for something greater. In need of a challenge_. 

The trouble is that he’s supposed to be normal here and any hint that he’s not is going to bring attention on him, which he can’t risk. He’s heading into a full panic as he tries to figure out what he’s supposed to do, trying to figure out where he can go that he won’t be interrupted. 

He heads to the music room, but he knows it’s only a matter of time before someone comes after him, and he’s not at all surprised when it’s Alex. He’s not disappointed either, if he’s honest, because he cherishes every second he gets to spend with the other boy. He really has been thinking about him more, and it means a lot to him that Alex had cared enough to come after him. 

The only weird thing is that Alex isn’t in their biology class, so he shouldn’t know that he’s upset.

“Hey. Liz told me that you stormed out of biology after your test.” Clearly, Michael hadn’t counted on nosy friends. “Why are you so upset about your test scores? I know you’re not failing, so it can’t be that bad, right? Is it your Mom?” Alex asks warily. “Does she get mad if they’re not perfect?”

He probably can’t say ‘she’ll be upset they’re too good’ without opening a can of earthworms that Michael’s not ready to talk about. No, strike that, he definitely can’t say that. He definitely can’t talk about how he refuses to willingly fail, because his ego and pride refuse to allow him to do that.

“Michael,” Alex chides, when his silence has continued to dominate the conversation. “Are you worried people are going to think you’re a nerd just because you’re smart? You know there’s no reason to be upset if you worked hard and got a good grade.”

Michael scoffs, shaking his head as he digs into his backpack to unearth the crumpled test, smoothing it out with his fingers. “Yeah, that’s kind of the issue.” 

Alex frowns, looking like he doesn’t understand. Michael doesn’t blame him, because it’s not like it’s the kind of thing that most people have issues with. 

“I didn’t try,” he admits, staring at the A+ on the test and knowing that he hadn’t studied, hadn’t bothered to try, but he’d still managed to do that. 

“Are you saying you didn’t study for the test?”

Michael shakes his head to confirm that. In fact, he’d been spending all his time working on the ship and he’d barely remembered they had a test until he’d had to borrow a pencil from Liz. 

Alex gapes at him. “Michael…”

“If I actually put in the effort that other people do, I wouldn’t be at Roswell High. I’d probably be three hours away at UNM or whatever other school thinks they could teach me.” Even there, he thinks that he’d be bored, because he has his suspicions that there are some topics that he could probably teach.

Lucky for him, Alex has no reason to think alien super genius and Michael doesn’t intend to give him any more hints in that direction. “Is that why you’re upset? You think that if people find out, they’ll try and make you skip grades and leave Roswell? Leave your Mom and…” He trails off, but Michael’s so grateful to Alex for giving him an excuse to latch onto. 

Now it doesn’t have to be about blowing his cover and revealing his intellect or what he truly knows.

It can just be about wanting to be close to his mother.

“I don’t want to lose any time with her. I know if I have too many tests like that, though, they’re going to start having conversations with me.” Or, worse, they’ll have conversations _about_ him and the last thing he needs is attention that ends up pulling other people in. He’s supposed to be flying under the radar until he heads home.

He runs his hands through his hair, glancing up to see Alex looking at him speculatively. 

It’s enough to make Michael snort derisively. “I get it, I’m an asshole for complaining about this.”

“What?” Alex looks shocked that Michael would even imply that. “No, I’m trying to help.”

Michael doesn’t see how he can, but apparently, common sense has never stopped Alex from trying to take on a ridiculous disaster of a problem like Michael Guerin, resident alien genius. 

“Look,” Alex says, “I think I have an idea, if you really don’t want people noticing that you’re clearly smarter than anyone else here.”

“Seriously?” Michael is feeling so dejected because he doesn’t have a solution. He could start trying to tank things on purpose, but he knows he’s too stubborn to let that happen. Not to mention, becoming a troublemaker by skipping classes still puts the spotlight on you, just in a different way.

“Yeah,” Alex agrees. “Are you okay with switching one of your courses?” 

Michael has no idea where he’s going with this, but it’s how he ends up in the guidance counsellor’s room to talk about how he wants to switch out of biology and into a writing class, because he feels like he needs a bit more of a challenge and because biology won’t support the sciences he’s interested in.

When he walks out, biology is off his schedule and creative writing is on it. 

Alex is waiting for him, arms wrapped around his textbooks with a delighted grin on his lips. “See? Fixed,” Alex boasts proudly.

Maybe Michael’s missing a piece of this equation, because, “I don’t see how.” Never mind that Michael had let Alex guide him every step of the way today, trusting him without seeing the end picture.

“It’s a writing class, Michael. It’s all subjective. There’s no way that you’re going to walk out of that class with a perfect A+ on every assignment and if you really want to tank it, just write a controversial opinion or two and don’t cite your sources.”

When Alex puts it like that, it has a staggering amount of logic poured into it. Literature and writing have always been Max’s thing, something that Michael had always dismissed because it didn’t have the comfort of a definitive answer at the end of the problem, but Alex is right. 

This can help be the anchor on his grades that he needs to make himself seem like more of a normal student and he’s done it with Alex’s help. He should feel bad about lying to him, but he hadn’t, not totally. After all, he really does want to make sure they don’t try sending him away from his mother, which means that he’d never really _lied_ to Alex.

Besides, there’s another benefit to all this that’s only just struck him. 

“I guess I’ll see you in class,” Michael says.

He’s now sharing four of his five classes with Alex this semester, and the only one he isn’t is the free period that they tend to hang out together during anyhow. 

“Yeah,” Alex agrees, his gaze lingering on Michael as he leans over to grab his skateboard, on his way home for the day. “I can’t wait.” The hopeful smile makes Michael feel as warm as when he comes around a planet and a new sun trickles in through the overhead windows. It’s like seeing a spiral galaxy for the first time or solving a complex problem formerly without an answer.

For the first time in years, Michael finally finds himself confronted with a new experience that he doesn’t think he can master in a matter of days.

He watches Alex Manes walk away from him, having solved his problem and helped him to continue hiding in plain sight. Michael rubs his palm over his quickly-beating heart, realizing how much Alex has come to mean to him.

 _Oh, shit_ , he thinks, and grins stupidly as he hauls himself into the driver’s seat of the truck, gripping the steering wheel as he sits there, gaping, and figures out what he’s been missing. 

He has a crush. He’s falling in _love_.

He’s falling in love with a _human_ , which is the thought that wipes the smile off his face. There’s no room for that in his plans, not when he’s got just under three years before he’s expected back on Antar. 

Michael takes in a deep breath and tells himself that it’s just a crush. Nothing has to come of it and it’s not like Alex feels the same way, which means nothing in his plans have to change. For now, he’ll focus on his problem being fixed and no one else has to know how Alex makes him feel like his body is electrified and alive in a way he’s never felt before.

That’s for him and only him to know.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks once more to estel_willow for looking this over!

“It’s your birthday soon,” his Mom calls from her workshop, breaking the easy silence they’d been working in.

They keep all the doors in the house open when they’re both working. She sticks to the study, Michael in the garage, but the sound carries well enough that they can talk. He’s in the middle of an upgrade to the ship’s shielding and she’s working on a new speaker system for the yard. They usually idly chat while they work, but Michael hadn’t expected her to bring that up. 

“Yeah? And?” 

“You’ll be seventeen! What do you want to do?” She gives him a teasing smile, appearing in the doorway of the garage, wiping her hands with a cloth. “What about a party? We could invite all your friends to the house the way we did for Alex’s birthday?”

Unfortunately, even Alex’s birthday hadn’t changed his mind about his opinion on his own birthday. He doesn’t want the fuss or the trouble, and he’d much rather keep his head down until the night passes. What he hadn’t been expecting was the fact that without a few galaxies separating them, his mother would want to do something.

That still doesn’t mean he wants a big bash.

What he can do is take advantage of the fact that this will be his first birthday in six years that his mother will be around for. As much as he likes hanging out with his friends (some of them more than others, which isn’t a black hole of complicated feelings he intends to fall into right now), he wants his birthday to stay within the family.

“I was thinking maybe you and I could do something,” Michael says, fidgeting with one of the couplings before glancing up. “We could get burgers at the Crashdown and then maybe we could go somewhere else in town?” He smiles, because he thinks he knows exactly where he wants to go. “I mean, if you want to?”

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” his mother promises, cupping his cheek before leaving him to his upgrades.

It’s his birthday on Friday, but he hasn’t told anyone. No one wishes him a happy birthday, no one gives him a cake, and no one goes through the awkward song and dance of decorating his locker. It’s perfect, even if he feels just the slightest bit guilty at lunch when Michael realizes that if his friends ever do find out he kept this from them, they might be pissed. Still, he doesn’t want a fuss and that’s what he gets.

When he’s back from school, he shoves his backpack in his room and charges downstairs to shout for his Mom, but she’s already got the car keys in hand. “I’m ready for whatever adventure you’re about to take me on.”

He's not so sure that ‘adventure’ is the right word to use when it comes to what he wants to do, but their first stop is to the Crashdown. He’s fallen in love hard and fast with certain earth cuisines, but his opinion is that the burgers and shakes from Crashdown are head and shoulders above the rest. 

It’s a pretty normal dinner for them, even if his mother clearly doesn’t appreciate the food the way he does (given that he inhales his food like he didn’t even need to chew), but they run into problems at dessert.

It’s when Liz shows up with a piece of pie and a candle in it that he glares at his mother.

“What? It’s your birthday!” she protests sunnily, like she hasn’t just upset the delicate balance of his social life.

He smiles, teeth showing, but gritted. “It is,” he agrees, seeing the way Liz is glowering at him, like he’s personally insulted her. “And I hadn’t told anyone because I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.” Michael hadn’t wanted to make his mother feel bad about giving up the alien, so to speak, but he still feels guilty when it looks like he’s upset her.

“Sweetheart, I didn’t…”

He reaches to grab her hand, squeezing it. “It’s fine, it’s okay,” he interrupts it. “Right? Liz will be pissed at me, tell the others, and I’ll deal with it. So long as no one throws me a party, we’re all good.”

“You’re getting a gift,” Liz threatens.

For all that he hadn’t wanted parties, Michael thinks, yeah, he could live with a gift. He grins and shrugs, like it’s such a hardship for him to even consider it. He’s also trying not to think about those butterflies in his stomach when he thinks about what kind of gift Alex might get for him. At least he can pretend that the flush in his cheeks is from the heat of the candle as he leans over to blow it out, tugging the individual Flying Apple Saucer Pie towards him.

“Don’t worry about it,” he mumbles to his mother, mouth full. “Liz will be happy she gets to be righteously angry about buying me a birthday gift and none of them threw me an awkward party. It’s still a win.”

The night isn’t over, either, because he has one more destination in mind for them.

It’s a surprise for her, even though he doubts that she’s going to be very impressed, but once she settles up the bill and Michael makes another round of profuse apologies to Liz, he can’t help his stupid grin. He might not want a party, but it’s pretty nice having his mother’s undivided attention, especially when he has planned what he does.

“Oh, I know that face,” she says, getting into the beat-up old truck that Michael had worked back into commission. “Where are we going?”

“Out of this world,” he quips, and drives them to the local UFO Emporium. 

“Well,” his mother notes, leaning forward to peer at the sign, “I don’t think this is what I expected, but I suppose we can make this work.” She gives Michael an amused smile. “I take it you’re feeling homesick?”

He shrugs, trying not to get too emotional about the fact that he is.

It’s not like the museum is actually going to have a wealthy offering of actual artifacts, but it’s the closest they’ll get to an out-of-this-world experience. Michael’s been a little worried about buying their tickets because he knows Alex works here, but today must be his day off. It’s a lucky thing, too, because the last thing he needs is for his mother to see how he looks at Alex these days.

Combine that with her ability to get inside of his head, and he knows that she’ll see his feelings with no trouble at all. 

He pays for their tickets and when he’s sure that his mother can’t hear him, asks the cashier to pass on a message to tell Alex that they visited, just so Alex knows that Michael’s finally come to see where he works. With a promise that the message will be passed along and tickets in hand, he drifts back to his mother’s side to head inside. 

It's laughably small, terribly fake, cheesy as shit, and it’s _perfect_.

Roswell has maybe one real artifact from the crash, seeing as their people had managed to get most of the items back in the rescue mission, leaving the town with mostly a myth and no little alien bodies, despite the stories from the locals to the contrary.

“So,” his mother asks him with a playful smile. “This is what you wanted?”

He shrugs with both hands turned upwards, like he just can’t help himself. “I’m embracing the local culture,” is his sarcastic reply, even if he’s genuinely enjoying the visit already. He weaves his way through the exhibits to look at what they have, staring at a history of fiction that all started with his ancestors and the few trinkets they’d left behind. 

While he’s studying the exhibits, Michael can sense his mother is waiting for an opening to ask him about something. It’s that sensation inside his head that feels a little like someone’s lurking on your porch, figuring out how to knock on the door. He rolls his eyes and leans against the display of moon rocks, giving her an amused look. 

“What?”

“I just wanted to say that I’m proud of you,” she says. “It’s only been a few months, but you’ve made such an effort. You have friends, you’ve been able to blend in, and you’ve learned so much about Earth culture,” she says, fixing a few of his curls that have fallen into his eyes. “Are you liking it here?”

“Surprisingly? Yeah, I really am,” he admits, which really hadn’t been the expectation.

Sure, he’d come here hoping to learn more and to spend time with his mother, but he’s come to adore going to school to learn about Earth, and he really has grown to enjoy the company of his friends. Maria, Liz, and Alex really are great, and Rosa’s been interesting to get to know. Some days, he thinks he can even tolerate Valenti. 

That unexpected affection he feels for the planet and its people has brought up a deep thought he’s kept buried for so long. Today’s his birthday, though, and that means he thinks he gets to ask anything, even if it’s the kind of difficult question that he tries not to ask on any other given day, for how hard it might be to answer.

Not today, though. Call it a birthday need or a request, but he needs to know. 

“How come you never came home?” Michael asks, when he’s staring at the humans’ approximation of one of their ships (which is ridiculous in a cheesy Hollywood way, but goes a long way to helping them hide their ship in plain sight). He wants to keep the hurt from his voice, but he knows it’s there.

He’d been ten when his mother had flown away and left him in his father’s care, which really meant that the tutors and maids and other staff had raised him until he’d gone to the academy at fourteen to work on the planet’s needs. 

Michael’s not sure what to make of the silence that stretches after his question. Does she know and she doesn’t want to say because it will hurt him? Or does she just not know?

“Now that you’re a little older, you understand what it’s like, to be royal on Antar,” she says, sitting down on a viewing bench. She pats the spot beside her, which Michael takes, letting her take his hand into both of her own. “You’re much further down in the line than I am, so the expectations for me were always heightened. They matched me with so many men and I was grateful to meet your father and foster a real connection with him. I didn’t expect to fall in love and I did, with your Dad. I know his position doesn’t make it easy for you. When I left, it wasn’t because I was trying to run away from him or from you. I could never, not forever,” she vows, stroking his curls off his face.

“Then why’d you go?”

“You’ve always been so mature for your age,” she admits. “So smart,” she praises. “That independence that I saw made me realize how little of it that I had for myself. There was always a place to be, a function to appear at, and I couldn’t stand it a single day longer. So, I signed it all away.”

Michael gapes at her, convinced he hasn’t heard that right.

“Wait,” he exhales. “ _What_?”

“I’ve abdicated my place in the lineage,” his mother says. “I didn’t want to tell you until you were older, because I didn’t know if you would still want that life when you returned to Antar, but for me, that’s never the future I want. Your father knows,” she assures. “The plan is that when he’s finished training his successors, he’ll join me here for an early retirement.”

The whole plan has always been for Michael to return on his nineteenth birthday for the job waiting for him. It’s not King or Prince or anything so hallow or respected, but it’s still a critical part of Antar’s needs and being a prince means he’ll likely be expected to be present at functions and even to find a mate and have children of his own. He’d also promised his cousins that he’d be back and Max and Isobel would kill him if he stayed on Earth.

He’s never felt like that’s the right path for him, but he’d always thought it was the only one.

“You can make that decision too,” she says, squeezing his hand. “I think it’s important for you to learn as much as you can about the options out there. You’re still young, even if you are brilliant. Maybe when you return to Antar, you’ll find that scientific discoveries and our culture is what you want. Maybe you’ll learn that the royal life isn’t what you want, the way I did.” 

She lets her gaze slide to the wall of stars, her lips curved up in a nostalgic smile.

“I miss them, sometimes,” she admits, “but I know I’ll never regret my choice. One day, you’ll get to make your own. It’s just not yet,” is her slightly firmer decree. He might be turning seventeen today, and he might be a genius, but that’s still not good enough to make his choice, it looks like.

That’s fine, he thinks. 

The truth is that he’s still so confused about what he wants that he doesn’t think he could trust himself to make the right decision. Michael pushes to his feet to keep looking around the admittedly small room, not sure he wants to acknowledge the part of his brain where he thinks he wants something very specific.

Mainly because that thing is here on Earth and no matter what, he’s going back to Antar in two years’ time.

“Ready to go?” he asks his mother once he’s done another three rounds and seen the same things (all fake, with one exception of an asteroid that they probably picked up from the desert and a panel from the ’47 crash that actually is Antarian). 

“Let’s,” his mother agrees, winding her arm in his as they head home.

Once they’re back, Michael is about to head to his room to check his phone (expecting a slew of angry messages from his friends for keeping a secret), but before he can, he hears his mother call out for him. 

“I have a present for you,” she says, settling her coat on the front hall table. “I know you said you didn’t need anything but the evening out with me, but I have a lot of years to make up for. Besides, it’s been yours since you were born,” she admits, opening a drawer to hand Michael a large ring box.

Inside is a signet ring with iridescent alien glass contained within the metal, shifting and turning. It bears the royal symbol of Antar etched in the metal, and Michael stares at it with awe. It’s gorgeous, and makes him feel a little homesick.

“It was my father’s, your grandfather,” she explains. “I know Isobel and Max will get more of the Antarian royal objects, but Dad always wanted me to have something for you. It was his,” she says, folding the ring into his palm, the otherworldly feel to the material and the metal resonating through Michael like a tuning fork going off. “Now, it’s yours.”

It almost feels like it’s too much, but Michael is so greedy and selfish for anything to remind him of home that he takes it into his hands like the treasure it is. When he slides it on his pinky, it fits perfectly, and he suspects from the knowing look on his mother’s face that she had something to do with that. Dropping his bag, he tackles her with a tight hug, burying his face into her neck.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, feeling a little embarrassed for being so emotional, but this is all he’s wanted of the last few birthdays and hasn’t been able to get it. At least, not until today. 

“I love you, sweetheart,” she says, fixing his hair as she eases back. “Your father and I, we just want you to be happy.” 

Some days, Michael might say that their absence from his life makes it difficult, but today is a good day. Today, he’s been the center of his mother’s world and his father has likely sent along a communication. He’s inherited a piece of his family’s history and it’s been a _good_ day. 

“Thanks, Mom,” he says, his voice hoarse with the realization of how much she does care.

It had been hard, sometimes, when neither of them had been around. These kinds of days are definitely making up for those awful feelings. He grabs his bag and heads upstairs, still twisting and touching the ring as he moves. Michael’s feeling pretty victorious, even though he knows he didn’t get away clean today.

After all, Liz is definitely not going to let him live it down and she’s definitely going to tell the others. 

Still, it could have gone so much worse. He ends up distractedly twisting and toying with the ring on his finger as he lies in bed, going through the various annoyed texts from Liz and Maria, but it’s the little voicemail notification that has him most interested. 

Once he’s settled in for the night, he curls up with the phone on the pillow next to him, pressing ‘play’ to see who it is that’s called to yell. 

“Hey.” It’s Alex’s voice, sleepy and fond, which makes Michael’s heart twist up a little and definitely awakens other parts, too. This doesn’t sound like yelling at all, and Michael isn’t sure whether that’s a good or bad thing, yet. “Liz said that you and your Mom were in the Crashdown tonight and that there was definitely a birthday candle in your pie. I’m not gonna push and ask why you didn’t want us there, because I know you probably have some weird genius reason, and I’m glad I got your voicemail. I had a gift that works better as a message.”

It feels wrong to slide his hand down his pajama pants to wrap his hand around his cock as he listens to Alex’s voice, but that doesn’t stop him. Michael nudges the ‘speaker’ button and lets his phone rest on his chest, watching it rise and fall with his heavy breaths as he strokes himself.

“I just wanted to call and wish you a happy birthday, so here goes nothing…” Michael hears guitar chords, Alex inhaling, and then a beat of silence before he starts to sing. “Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you.” Michael closes his eyes, exhaling breathlessly as Alex sings, “Happy birthday, dear Michael,” he sings with a low, sweet voice, so much emphasis on the ‘dear’ that it almost hurts. “Happy birthday, make all the wishes, and I hope you had the best day,” he speaks that last phrase, and with a last chord, it’s over.

“I’ll see you Monday.”

Then the line goes dead.

It doesn’t take much longer for Michael to reach his climax, the memory of Alex’s voice serenading him in his ear, and the memory of his smile in his mind. Once he’s cleaned up his hand, he saves the voicemail, and thinks that this is the best birthday he’s ever had.

* * *

It seems like every week there’s something new about earth culture for him to learn. He’d taken to the internet for the bastion of information that it was, so he’s feeling like he’s a whiz when it comes to pop culture and the intricacies of teen culture, but every so often, he gets blindsided with something he would have never thought to look up.

“Open mic night,” he reads, staring at Liz as she posts a flyer that holds that strange phrase. “I don’t get it.”

“Well, you don’t have to, but you need to be there because it’s at the Pony and Alex is going to do a few songs,” she insists, slapping a flyer into his palm. “I don’t have the energy to put up with Alex sulking if you don’t show up.” Michael’s studying the information on it when Liz shouts at him to get his attention.

He snaps his head up. “What?” he asks with a scowl.

“You should make sure you’ve got something in your back pocket,” she warns. “Maria has a habit of volunteering people. I speak from experience,” Liz says ruefully. 

Michael doesn’t bother to think too hard about that. He thinks he’s more than capable of denying Maria’s attempts to volun-tell him into doing anything. He tries not to think about how ironic it is for him to think that as he’s making plans to be at open mic night just because Liz told him to be there. 

He still brings his guitar (because maybe he’s just going to end up playing for Maria while she sings), and wears his sheep-lined jacket over a pair of his jeans and boots. His Mom tweaks the collar on the way out, beaming at him. “Knock ‘em dead, kid,” she says, being a great fan of karaoke and open mic herself, something she’d told him when he came home with the flyer.

She’s definitely gone native. 

There’s a decent sized crowd, even if it looks like half the people here are Mimi DeLuca’s regulars and not actually here for the music, but there’s at least a few people, and the only ones that matter are near the front of the room tweaking their instruments. Alex isn’t here yet, but Liz and Maria are helping to set up the sound systems, getting the instruments ready.

He knows Alex is on his way because he texted saying he’d be late, but the glaring absence of someone else is enough to make him do mental cartwheels. 

“No Valenti?” Michael notices, pretty pleased with that.

Liz doesn’t look quite so happy. “He bailed at the last minute,” she says, her lips pressed together firmly. “He’s at a football practice. They lost last week and the coach is working them hard.” Clearly, there’s trouble in paradise, but Michael doesn’t feel like getting involved in that drama.

He also doesn’t want to get put to work. 

“I’ll get drinks,” he says, cheerfully. 

While he’s at the bar, he sees Alex slide in the back door. Michael waves to him, gesturing to where everyone is set up. The Wild Pony is serving alcohol tonight to anyone with a wristband the right color, but Michael’s not planning to break any rules tonight. He’s at the bar to grab coke for the group of them from Mimi DeLuca. 

He knows he’s lingering, shooting time just talking to her to avoid setting up, but within minutes, he suddenly finds himself flanked by both Liz and Maria.

“I can do this on my own,” he guarantees. “I’ve got two working arms and all.” Or maybe they’ve come to bitch at him for dawdling? 

“We wanted to talk,” Liz says, smirking at Maria, even though she’s in Michael’s eyeline. “Without Alex overhearing us and he got here a whole lot earlier than we anticipated.” 

Michael glances back to see Alex setting up on stage for his set, which must be why he hasn’t been complaining about being abandoned. Mimi shares a conniving smile with her daughter and drifts away, like she knows she doesn’t want to be present for whatever _this_ is.

Honestly, Michael’s not so sure he wants to be here, either. 

“What isn’t Alex supposed to overhear?”

“Oh,” Maria says, casually, “The fact that you have a raging crush on him and we’re wondering if you’re going to do anything about it?”

Michael’s really glad that he hadn’t picked up the glasses to bring them to the table, because he’s confident that he would have dropped them all if she’d brought that up during the transport. He goes bright pink in the cheeks and starts going back over the last few months in his head, wondering what the hell would make them think that.

Not that it isn’t true, but he seriously didn’t think anyone else had noticed.

“You’re not subtle about the way you stare at him,” Liz points out, when there’s a glaring lack of an argument.

“Not to mention every time Valenti says something, you jump up like a guard dog…”

“And the part where you press up against him whenever we’re together even where there’s tons of space to go around,” Maria keeps listing, mocking a bored affect that has Michael narrowing his eyes at her and Liz, as they keep going back and forth like some kind of annoying tennis game.

Liz is definitely playing to win. “Oh, right, and the part where every time we talk on the phone, the first question you ask or text is about him.” 

Okay, he clearly hasn’t been subtle at all, which is fine, but that doesn’t mean he needs Alex to know just how pathetically in love with him Michael is. After all, Alex is the most gorgeous guy that Michael’s ever met and he’s kind of the epitome of grubby alien chic with his grease-covered jeans, his too-big shirts, and his messy hair. 

Alex deserves way better, not to mention how there’s always still this hesitation between them that Michael suspects has something to do with his home life. 

“Does Alex know?”

Maria and Liz exchange a fond look. “He’s clueless.”

“Does Alex like me back?” Michael asks, aware that his cheeks have gone bright pink to be asking something that sounds so childish and immature. He also hates that neither of them looks like they know the answer.

Great, so they’re trying to send him in blind.

“You know Alex,” Liz protests, reaching out to get the pitcher of coke and some of the glasses. “He tends to keep everything pretty close to the vest, but I think he likes you. He lets you do all those things, and it’s not like he has a crush on anyone else anymore.” Maria takes the rest of the items and Michael follows, empty-handed, back to where Alex is sitting on the stool, the lights going down low. Michael badly wants to ask who Alex used to crush on, but he’s also not sure his jealous heart could take it.

He’s beyond glad that he’s not going to have to talk to Alex while this conversation is fresh in his mind, but at the same time, Michael had wanted to talk to him before he went into his set. That’s why he makes the time to duck up towards the stage, regardless of what Maria and Liz plan to say about it later.

“Hey,” he whispers, giving Alex a grin. 

Alex leans down, the spotlight creating a halo effect around his spiked hair, staring down at Michael. “Hi?”

“Good luck,” he offers. “I mean, not that you need it…” He reaches back for the glass of water he’d managed to get for Alex, setting it on the edge for him. He opens his mouth to say something else, but then nothing comes out. Instead, he turns around and crawls back into their booth, feeling wildly embarrassed.

“Oh, honey,” Liz sighs.

“Is he looking?” Michael mutters from behind his hands.

“No,” Maria answers, and Michael doesn’t know why that hurts even more.

Michael slumps back in the booth, grateful when Alex leans towards the mic to start his set. He’s heard all these songs before because they tend to rehearse together – by which he means Alex rehearses and Michael sits there practicing chords and admiring – but Alex looks so different when he’s performing. He does three songs, from _I Will Possess Your Heart_ to a slower cover of _Dog Days are Over_ , and then ending on the Killers’ _Human_.

He’s sure that there are no fewer than five or six people in the bar that have fallen for Alex, but unfortunately, they’re all women and have no shot with him. Michael’s already been in love, but he’s still not so sure about his chances, either. “Thanks, everyone,” Alex murmurs, low and throaty into the microphone, before he takes his equipment with him and joins them at the booth. “Well? How was I?”

Liz tips her head to the side, giving him a dubious look. “Nope! Compliment fishing. Denied!”

“You were amazing,” Maria praises, disobeying Liz’s strict orders.

Michael definitely knows who he’s siding with. “It’s gonna suck to follow that,” he agrees, and seeing as it’s Wyatt Long up there trying to cover Eminem, he doubts that’s going to be an issue. Alex shoves into the booth on the opposite side of him, leaving Maria and Liz in between them, which is good. 

He could use the buffer right now when he’s feeling so anxious. 

Michael ends up doing a few runs to the bar, watching a lot of the locals sing their music, recite their poetry (and Max should really come to one of these things, if he ever visits the planet, he’d love this shit), and Michael’s just grateful that he doesn’t have to talk about his feelings or anyone else’s. Maria does a few songs that have them applauding wildly, especially when Alex joins her and they sing the song that had made Michael fall in love with earth music. 

As the hours pass, Michael starts to think that he might be in the clear. Maybe Liz and Maria will drop the topic from earlier and let him do things at his own speed, even if said speed happens to be glacial. 

Unfortunately, the night’s not over yet. 

“I was thinking,” Maria says, as she’s nestled into the booth with Michael, leaning in so that their conversation is quiet, “that you should play the song we’ve been practicing.” 

It takes Michael a second to realize what she means, but then it hits.

He'd found the song in a catalogue and it had felt right from the first lyrics about the _stars above you_ , but it doesn’t feel right to be playing that here. He gives Maria a panicked look and shakes his head to deny the suggestion. It’s something he hasn’t even played in front of Alex, because he hasn’t felt confident enough to do it, but also because it feels weirdly personal to be singing it in front of Alex when it feels like it’s _about_ him. “I don’t think that’s a…”

“Next on stage, Michael Guerin!” announces Mimi, clearly in cahoots with her daughter.

He glares at Maria with an accusatory glare, fully intending to stay planted in the booth. “No,” he says firmly. “I’m not going up there,” he warns. “You know I’m not ready to play that one, Maria, I…”

“Michael,” Alex interrupts his protest, reaching out to slide his hand over Michael’s. “Please?”

Oh, _fuck_ them all. 

It’s not like Roswell’s a deep pool for talent outside of the people at his own table, but he really hadn’t counted on being thrust into the spotlight – literally. He grumbles as he gets on stage with his guitar and drags over the stool, to the encouraging whooping sound from Liz and Maria, not to mention Alex’s eager applause.

He hates them all as much as he appreciates them.

“Well,” he says, glancing to Mimi DeLuca, who’d announced him, “this is kind of a surprise, so no guarantees that this’ll be any good.” He knows he’s underselling himself. He knows he sounds decent, because Maria records him and they play it back so he can figure out where he’s gone wrong.

It’s just that Michael hadn’t counted on singing this to Alex, in front of a crowd of people. 

The first seconds are nothing but chords, which gives him the chance to quiet his mind down and focus on playing. It eases him into the more terrifying part of singing for a group of people when his voice is far from his best feature. There’s a low, husky quality to it, and he’s got a decent enough tone, but it’s nothing like Alex’s. He goes too sharp, too soft, because his strength is science, not song.

He has to hope that pouring the emotions in will make up for it. When he plays the last chord before the opening lines, he looks up and catches Alex’s eye in the lights, because this song is for him. 

It’s all for him.

“I may not always love you, but as long as there are stars above you,” he sings, breath catching in his throat, making the last note weaker. “You’ll never need to doubt it, I’ll make you so sure about it…”

The heat of the spotlight warms his body, but he doesn’t let his gaze slide away from Alex until the chorus. Only then does he look away, grateful that no one looks like they’re about to throw their drink at him, and that adrenaline rush carries him through the song. 

By the end, his gaze is back on their table, but he’s closed his eyes to get through the last lyrics. They’re the ones that feel so right in his heart, because he doesn’t know what he’d be without Alex Manes. 

Life on earth has proven that to him, if nothing else.

Michael takes in a deep breath, his eyes closed as he sings the last lyrics of the song. “God only knows what I’d be without you,” he finishes, his voice shaky. He’s used to Maria singing the harmonizing vocals on this with him, not to mention that it’s the kind of song that had only ever been something during their private sessions.

Did it matter that he pictured Alex every time he played it? Does it matter that he’d been singing to him, and only him?

Michael opens his eyes to catch Alex’s eye, but he’s not there. There’s a large amount of space in the booth, an Alex-shaped absence that makes Michael feel a pit of grief in his gut. He swallows back that feeling as he nods for the applause he gets, storming off the stage before people can notice the way his brow is furrowed.

He isn’t sure what to say, but he knows there’s no point avoiding the elephant in the room when he nudges into the booth, forcing Liz to move over and take over Alex’s spot. “He left,” is all Michael says. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Liz admits, a stormy look on her face, like she’s suddenly regretting bringing up the subject of Michael liking Alex. 

Maria doesn’t look any less guilty, given that she’d been the one to encourage him onto the stage, even though she clearly suspected that Michael liked that song for one specific reason. It doesn’t matter. He shoves up his defensive walls around him so that he doesn’t have to worry about the fact that he’d been rejected, because it’s not like he out and out told Alex the song was for him and he didn’t confess to him. 

So what if he left early?

So what if he doesn’t feel the same?

Michael only wishes he didn’t know how much he’s lying to himself about how little it hurts, but luckily, the night is over soon enough. He says his goodbyes to Maria and Liz and drives home, ignoring his mother’s questions about how the night went. He’s in a mood and he knows it, but that doesn’t change how shitty it feels, knowing that he’d been rejected like that.

Michael crawls into bed and tugs the covers above him as he buries himself in his little protective space with nothing but his phone to keep him company, trying to ignore the bitter pang every time he checks and finds no text from Alex, especially after Michael has sent several telling him how good he’d been, how much he’d enjoyed the night, and then about three texts asking if he’s okay.

It's hours later before he gets a reply back and it’s no more than a single text from Alex. 

_I’m sorry I left. You were great, it was so good, but my Dad called and I had to take it._

Michael has no idea whether Alex is lying to make up for the fact that he’d run away, but it’s something that he can cling to. If he doesn’t, after all, it means that Michael had poured his heart and soul out on that stage in front of the whole stupid town and Alex had taken one look at him and found him wanting. 

If Alex is lying, then he doesn’t want Michael the way that he wants him.

That’s not something he can bear to think about. He’s also not so sure he accepts it, so for now, he's planning to take Alex at face value, but he’s also not planning on doing anything crazy like tell Alex how he feels.

Attempt one hadn’t worked out so well, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [God Only Knows...](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XqLTe8h0-jo)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> It's also very much true that Mara, Liz, Mimi, and Maria have a group chat going in regards to Michael's crush on Alex. He doesn't know it, he's not sure he wants to know about it, and there is a disturbing amount of emojis in there.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, [estel_willow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/estel_willow/pseuds/estel_willow) was a rockstar for looking this over, so thank you!
> 
> Second, I've made a [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4wg9whJGN5fWOmIZ8Bh7Xu) for this universe that I will add to as more music is added (and it will be).
> 
> Third, when you get to The Scene later on, [it's this song that's playing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9MG8fd6dxY4).

After open mic night, Michael tries his best to put Alex out of his mind, but it’s hard to do when Alex keeps giving him mixed signals, flowing hot and cold. For every time that Alex brushes his hand or looks at him a little too long, there’s an equal moment where he’ll go radio silent. Michael can’t help but cling to the hope that maybe he’s not the only one with a crush, but the way that Alex has gone cold and reserved recently isn’t such a good sign.

Though, he’s pretty sure it’s not because of what happened that night. After all, he knows that Alex’s home life is far from perfect, so maybe it’s that. Then, Michael actually pays attention and notices that Alex isn’t shutting down randomly. 

It happens when one specific topic gets brought up, and the last few days, it’s been coming up a lot:

 _Prom_.

Whatever it is, it’s clearly enough to send Alex into fits of misery. 

Michael does a little research himself, but the best he can find is that it’s some kind of dance. That can’t possibly be the reason for the fuss around school, not to mention Alex’s mood swings. Maybe he’s missing something, because no matter who he talks to and what pictures he looks at, it’s streamers and music and the high school gym and a band or a DJ playing. 

Clearly, he needs the expert in Earth culture. “Mom,” Michael asks at dinner, mouth full of food, “what’s prom?”

She looks up from her food and he can feel her amusement. Whatever explanation he’s about to get, he’s probably not anticipating it is what he gets from the feeling through their bond. “Why do you want to know?”

“Liz and Alex were talking about it at lunch,” Michael says. “Liz wants to go with Valenti and they were talking about how you get elaborate prom proposals and how she wasn’t sure if he’d do one for her.” There’s absolutely no way that he’s about to tell his mother that he’s researching all of this because it seems to be something that makes Alex miserable. “I did some research, but as far as I can find out, it’s a dance. Why are people talking about proposals like it’s some kind of wedding? Why do people care so much about this dance?”

“And you ask why I send you to school,” she wryly teases him, reaching over to fix his hair. “It marks the end of the year. For the seniors, the ones graduating, it’s a rite of passage into whatever comes next in their life. Yes, it’s a dance, but it represents so much more than that.” 

Michael digs into his food and frowns as he thinks about how lunch had ended with Alex looking miserable, because Valenti had showed up with an elaborate bouquet of flowers and an ask for Liz to go to prom with him. Alex had excused himself from lunch and rushed off before anyone could stop him, so clearly it must mean a lot to him.

The next day, Michael asks Maria why Alex had been so upset. It’s not like he’s wanting to go with either Valenti or Liz (at least, he hopes). In return, Maria had given Michael a sad look. “Jealousy. He thinks it’s never going to happen for him and this is the last chance he’ll ever get to go to a high school dance with a date.” Her gaze turns speculative. “Then again, it doesn’t have to be his last chance if someone were to change that with an ask…?”

Michael knows that the rest of the group are making their plans to get out of Roswell and start their lives. This prom thing, whatever it stands for, is meant to mark some big occasion in their lives. For Michael, it’s another day and another human occasion that won’t mean much to him because it’s not like he’s moving on to anything here.

Still, Maria is giving him ideas. He’s twisting the signet ring on his pinky as he works the problem in his head. Even if it doesn’t mean anything to him, it clearly means everything to Alex.

“You think he’d say yes?”

“I think he’d appreciate being asked, even if he doesn’t feel the same way.” That’s quickly added onto. “He _does_ feel the same. You’re both complicated and murky, but I can feel it. I don’t know what’s stopping him or what sent him running after open mic night, but he deserves to have someone take a chance on him and you deserve to go to the dance with the boy you like. Besides, it’d be a nice change of pace from him and me going together. I always felt guilty when I went off to dance with other people.”

“Do you think he wants something elaborate when I ask him or…” 

Fuck, Michael doesn’t know how to do this. He’s already stammering in his hesitation, the nerves written in the furrows in his brow.

Maria looks like she at least understands his plight. “I think he just wants to be asked. If it happens to be someone he likes doing the asking, I think he’ll be even more thrilled.”

That settles it.

Even if Alex doesn’t feel the same about him, he deserves to have someone take him to the dance and go to any length of effort possible to make it good for him. If they only go as friends, then so be it, but Michael isn’t going to be so cowardly that he won’t find out. To Michael, this sounds like just another royal function that, in the old days, he’d stand around and tolerate.

Maybe he doesn’t have to just tolerate this one, though.

If he’s got Alex at his side, it might be the first time that he actually enjoys this kind of event.

When he gets home that night, he must have a determined look on his face. His mother stops him before they sit down to dinner, holding him by the shoulders and studying him. “Something’s changed,” she says, tipping her head one way and then the other. He can feel her peering around his head, over his aura, then to his heart’s intentions.

Michael lets her study him, waiting for her assessment.

It comes soon enough when she smiles, filled with warmth and relief. “Oh, sweetheart. He’s going to want to go with you. I know it.” 

Michael can’t believe how nervous he is about asking Alex and as much as he wants to believe that his mother had read Alex’s mind to know for sure, he feels rude asking. Besides, it’s not like he's going to run into any other competition. No one else is out at Roswell High and unless some hot exchange student is about to breeze into town the way Michael had, he hasn’t got any competition. 

That means the only item on his checklist of ‘asking Alex Manes to prom’ is: Don’t fuck it up.

Michael spends the next few days ignoring his schoolwork and paying attention to the problem at hand. Around them, the whole school goes wild with promposals (a word he fucking loathes), but Michael watches them like an alien who’s trying to learn earth culture. He sits with Maria and Liz on the bleachers and takes notes, with their help.

They’re both on board for his plan, which means he has allies. 

“He’s got a suit, right?” Michael checks with Maria, who nods.

He's going to be responsible for the asking and being the date, but he needs to make sure that he’s got everything else ready to go. “As blue as the sky,” Maria guarantees. “I have a dress to match it, but I don’t think I’ll need it this year. You’ll get a boutonniere for him?” she checks as Liz scribbles down in her notes.

“Yeah, I have to grab the things for my ask, so I’ll pay for them then.” 

He's asking _really_ soon, which is what’s been on his mind the last few days. In the end, Michael had decided against a big proposal ask. It’s not that he’s lazy, but he’s worried that if he goes all out, Alex might think that he’s fucking around with him and Michael needs Alex to take him seriously. 

“It’s gonna be great, Michael,” Liz promises, reaching over to squeeze his ankle. “Unless some weird brain slug attaches itself to his brain, I can’t see him being upset by you asking.” Michael nods rapidly, surprised by how badly he’d needed to hear that. “And we’ll be there at the dance to make sure no one gives you any grief.”

“Let them try,” Michael vows, because if he has to end the dance with a fist fight to defend Alex’s honor, he can definitely make that work. 

When he goes home that night, everything is in place for the ask. The only thing left to do is actually go through with it. 

The next morning, Michael skips class to go to the local florist. He picks up two bundles of bouquets, the first of which are twelve black roses. Those go into Alex’s locker (with the help of his telekinesis) along with a typewritten note: _Music room, 3PM_ is all it says.

He tucks the other flowers in his locker and goes about his day, knowing that Alex won’t be back to his locker to switch books until just before his last class, which means Michael only has to avoid him then. Instead of going to his last class, he grabs his things and heads for the music room to get ready. 

The other bouquet is for this. This one is a mix of yellows, salmon, and pink roses that are wrapped in a bright blue cover. The florist had talked about their meanings, but Michael had sort of tuned her out, not really caring what they meant so long as they looked nice and none of them meant ‘I hate you’. He’s carefully positioned the flowers behind Alex’s guitar in his lap, playing chords and a few of the songs he’s been practicing as he waits for 3PM to roll around and Alex to show up.

At least, he hopes Alex is going to show up. 

This all hinges on Alex taking a leap of faith on the note in his locker, but Michael hopes that the music room invitation will tell him that it’s someone who knows him. As he plays, he shifts carefully to make sure the roses aren’t being crushed. If they get ruined before Alex finds him, then his plans won’t be over, but they’ll suck a little more.

Michael’s attention is hawk-like on the clock nearby. 

It’s 3:05 and still no Alex, but that’s fine. The halls can get crazy at the end of the day and who knows if Alex had decided to go to Maria and Liz for moral support. He forces himself to bow his head and play, and a few minutes later, he hears the door open. Glancing up, in the middle of playing _God Only Knows_ , he sees Alex drifting inside the music room, confused.

He isn’t holding the roses or the note, but the minute that Alex’s attention lands on him, Michael knows the plan is going to work.

That indignation in Alex’s eyes is fixed on the fact that Michael is playing his guitar, having pried it out of the locked cabinet. 

“Guerin, that’s my…” Alex yanks the guitar out of Michael’s hands, just like he’d hoped he would (he’s so possessive of it, but then, Michael’s own guitar is a few feet away, so he doesn’t blame him). 

Still, the fiendish and pleased smirk on Michael’s lips is well-deserved, because as soon as Alex pulls the guitar away, it reveals the roses in Michael’s lap. Michael watches Alex’s face as it clicks. There can’t be any doubts in his head, now, about who’d left the other roses in his locker or the note. That said, clearly, Alex hasn’t pieced it all together. 

“W-what?” Alex manages, stammering slightly. His attention slides from the flowers to Michael’s face.

Here goes nothing, thinks Michael.

“Do you want to go to prom with me?”

Alex stares at him like he’s not understanding. “I thought that was the plan. You, me, and Maria would go together and…”

Michael rises to his feet and nervously turns the bouquet of roses in his hand, his fingers tightening on the stems as he tilts them towards Alex. “No, Alex,” he interrupts, stepping towards him and trying to make him understand from something so simple as the look on his face. “Do you want to go to prom with _me_? Do you want to go on a date with me to prom?”

The silence that envelops the room is the most nerve-wracking thing that Michael has felt since he’d taken off from Antar, nervous that his ship wouldn’t work. Alex reaches out and tentatively slides his fingers over the stem of the bouquet, index finger brushing along the line of Michael’s fingers. He looks nervous and he isn’t saying anything. Suddenly Michael’s worried that he’s gone too far. 

So, of course, that’s when Michael starts rambling.

“Unless you don’t like me that way, but I kind of have this crazy big crush on you,” Michael admits, because everyone else seems to know about it, so what’s the harm in telling Alex? “I know this is going to be one of the last chances for some big thing and I know in the last few years, no one asked you, but I wanna be the one to ask you and more than that, I wanna be the one that you go with. Even if you don’t like me that way, I still want you to go with me and I could just keep you company!”

He presses the flowers into Alex’s hands, stepping towards him and letting every shred of hope live on his face.

“I want to be your date to prom.”

“The assholes at this school aren’t going to like that,” Alex warns with a soft huff, but he takes the roses. “Are you sure you can handle that?”

“They don’t scare me.” Michael’s gaze is fixed on Alex, unflinching. “Do they scare you?”

“They’re not the ones who do.”

Michael has an awful feeling that he knows who Alex is talking about. It means he’s about to take an assumptive leap, but he doesn’t think twice about doing it. “He doesn’t need to know about what happens at prom. The night can just be for you and me.” 

He’s anxiously shifting his weight from foot to foot as the silence continues. Alex looks fairly pleased and calm, sniffing the roses, but when Michael gives him a look of incredulous disbelief, he only gets confusion in return. “What?” Alex asks.

“You haven’t given me an answer!”

Alex’s eyes widen with alarm and he opens his mouth like he’s about to argue that he did, but Michael wordlessly gives him an expectant look. “Oh shit,” Alex says, his brows lifting when it must hit him that he hasn’t. “Yeah. Yes, oh god, yeah. Yes, I want to go with you to prom. I want to go with you, as your date,” he says, and the firm confidence and sureness in those words washes away so many of Michael’s doubts and worries. He lifts the flowers to his face to hide his grin, but Michael can still see the way his eyes crinkle up with giddiness. “You have a crush on me? A crazy big one?” he asks from behind the petals

Michael flushes and wrinkles his nose, trying to figure out a way to joke about it so he doesn’t have to feel so nervous. “I…”

“Because I have a crazy big crush on you, too,” Alex cuts him off, reaching down into the bouquet to find one of the salmon roses, fishing it out so he can hold it out to Michael. “Will you come to prom with me?”

“We already established that’s a very big yes for me.” 

He still takes the rose, twirling it between his fingers, laughing nervously. The dance is still a week away, but Alex said yes. Alex said yes, and that’s suddenly the only thing that matters in the whole world. That, and the part where Alex said he likes him back. The future drifts into smoke and Michael ignores what’s going to happen a few years from now, because he wants to live in this moment for as long as he can.

“I’ll text you some of the details,” Michael says. “I think Maria and Liz have some plans for a pre-party in the limo, but I…” He takes in a deep breath, thinking through his words. “I’m really looking forward to going to this dance with you.”

“Yeah,” Alex agrees, his gaze flicking from Michael’s eyes to his lips and then back up again. “Me, too.” 

There’s a sprawling moment of silence between them and Michael isn’t sure if he should push forward and ask for anything else. The three feet between them feels like an ocean of space, but it's also protection as he tries to figure out what he does next. It’s taken him a week to figure out how to even ask, but he didn’t plan this moment after Alex had accepted.

Luckily, Alex’s phone vibrates in his pocket. He glances to it and can’t help his fond smile. “It’s Maria,” he says. “She wants to know if…”

“Take it,” Michael encourages, wanting Alex to be able to share the joy of being asked. 

As far as Alex knows, he’s been asked to a dance by the new kid in Roswell, who wears greasy jeans and skips classes half of the time. Michael smiles to himself as he watches Alex duck away, continuously sniffing the flowers, raving to Maria about how he’d asked him.

Does he need to know that he’s going to a dance with a prince?

Nah. 

It's still something that amuses Michael and he knows that if they were back home, him showing up to an event with a romantic date would get ten times the attention that it would here, even with all the attention they’re bound to get given the homophones that reside in Roswell. Lucky for them that they’re on earth and not Antar and there’s only one alien whose opinion he cares about. Plus, they can handle the local idiots. Michael feels confident in that.

Michael presses his hand to Alex’s shoulder, squeezing it as he grabs his guitar to head out. “I’ll call you tonight,” he whispers, since Alex is still on the phone with Maria.

Alex nods, but at the last-minute Michael decides to get courageous. He ducks in and kisses Alex’s cheek before striding out of the music room as fast as he can, tucking the rose into his physics textbook in the passenger seat of his truck. The whole drive home, he’s grinning like an idiot and it’s the happiest that he thinks he’s ever been.

Maybe that should make him worried about the life he’s had, but he doesn’t think of it like that. Instead, he thinks about how amazing it is that he’s getting this chance with Alex. 

When he gets home, his mother’s waiting for him on the porch.

Michael doesn’t need to say anything, not for the way he’s radiating glee. He nods, feeling that victorious soaring sensation. “He said yeah,” he agrees, thinking of how Alex had tipped his head into the flowers to inhale, his nose ring brushing against a petal before he’d sneezed, like some adorable disaster, not to mention the warmth of Alex’s cheek when he’d kissed him.

Then again, now that Alex has said yes, reality is starting to hit.

“Shit,” Michael exhales, to his mother’s dismayed look at the profanity. “I need to figure out where I’m going to get a suit.”

His mother gives him a fond look. “Come inside.” She leads him to her room, opening the closet door to reveal a navy-blue suit hanging in a garment bag. Michael stares at it with confusion, sliding his fingers over it. It’s not new, but he has no idea why this would be in his mother’s closet. “This was your father’s. We bought it for him during one of his visits. He and I went out to celebrate our anniversary and he didn’t want to take it home with him. I’ll have to take it in a little, but I think he’d be delighted to know you were wearing it.”

Michael stares at the suit, thinking about his parents dancing together, and it hits him like a punch how much he wants that with Alex.

“Besides,” she adds, “I’m not letting you to go to this affair in one of your ill-fitting dirty t-shirts. No one else might know it, but I know you’re a prince of Antar and if you don’t uphold our reputation, I might have to tell them back home that there really is no hope for you.” She’s smiling at him, reaching out to take the suit off the hook, draping it over her bed like she’s going to start alterations tonight. 

There’s still a week until the dance, but Michael stops caring about anything else. He works with his mother on daily measurements to tweak the suit, spends his nights texting with Alex, and ends up skipping probably one too many classes. He even stops working on the ship because he’s too busy obsessing about prom.

In the week leading up, he’s as human as everyone around him.

“Are you riding with us in the limo?” 

It's almost midnight, but he and Alex have been talking since ten about their plans. Every night this week, they’ve fallen asleep in a conversation, though neither of them has actually managed to figure out that they should be talking about more than just prom. That’s a problem for after, Michael figures, seeing as he needs to make sure prom is good before he asks if Alex wants to be his boyfriend.

Shit, is he allowed to have a boyfriend? Is that the kind of thing he needs to ask his mother for permission to do?

“Nah,” Michael says, “I want to meet you there, so I figured I’d drive my truck. Then, later, when Rosa inevitably co-opts the limo to go cruising around Roswell with Maria, I could drive you back home.” 

“It’s tomorrow,” Alex says quietly. “I can’t believe it’s tomorrow.”

“I’m so glad it is,” is Michael’s opinion, because he’s been waiting forever. He doesn’t care that it's only been a week. He’s young and that feels like forever to him. The only thing that matters is showing up at the dance tomorrow to meet Alex. “I’ll see you there at eight?”

“Yeah,” Alex agrees. “Tomorrow. Eight o’clock.”

“I can’t wait,” is the last thing Michael says before he hangs up, pressing his cell to his chest, where his fast-beating heart is hammering. 

It takes him another hour to fall asleep, but when he does, he dreams about dancing with Alex in the clouds of Antar, where the suns make them iridescent and so different from the clouds on earth. 

He sleeps until late morning and only wakes when he feels a mental prod. “Mom,” Michael protests, without opening his eyes, because he can feel her presence in the room. “One more hour,” he pleads, turning into the pillow.

That mental prod becomes an actual physical one when she pushes two fingers into his shoulder.

Michael grimaces and turns over onto his back to find his mother holding the suit out for him, outside of the garment bag. The blue of it seems to shimmer in the sunlight and the black shirt has been pressed. He remembers suits like this from back home, but knowing that this one had belonged to his father makes it even more important. 

He sits up in bed, the covers dragged over his bent knees, as he reaches out to slide his hand down over the cuffs. In his mother’s open palm are two cufflinks that shimmer and shift in an extremely familiar way. “From the ship,” he realizes, taking them into his hand to stare at them and the suit. He casts his gaze back up to her. “Thank you,” he says, pushing up to crawl onto his knees so he can hug her as tightly as he can.

“Easy! Come on, don’t get this wrinkled, I spent ages getting this to fit you and steaming out the wrinkles,” she protests, cupping his cheek before her fingers move to his hair. “Now, let’s do something about this before I let you look the part of a prince ready to take his love to the ball.”

He’s used to this, unfortunately, which is why he allows his mother to fuss over him once he gets out of the shower. She dons him in one of her flowy house robes, sits him down in her room, and drifts around talking to herself and to him as she works his hair into properly tamed curls. Normally, when this happens, it’s the assistants nattering above him as they work and he finishes first, waiting for Isobel’s far more complex beauty rituals to end.

“Now, you’re going to make sure you dance at least two or three times,” she orders, spritzing him with holding gel. 

“Yes, Mom.”

“You’re going to take him home before his curfew so he isn’t in trouble.”

He doesn’t roll his eyes, but she keeps saying obvious things. “Of course.”

“And,” she adds, pinching his cheek as she holds out the suit. “You’re going to have fun and make sure that I get pictures of the both of you.” He nods at that, even though she’s in the middle of fixing his hair, because he wants pictures for himself. No matter where he ends up in the future, he wants something of the two of them.

He tips his head up until he’s staring at his mother upside-down. “I promise,” he vows. “I will behave, I won’t use my powers, and I will even use all the dancing lessons you put me through as a child to impress him. It’s going to be fine.”

“I think it’ll be better than fine,” she teases, holding the suit out of his reach. “Go eat something before you put this on. I’m not letting you ruin all my hard work with a mustard stain.”

He rolls his eyes, but doesn’t argue because she’s probably not wrong. Michael checks his phone and finds ten excited texts from Alex detailing his preparation process. As he eats a few sandwiches, he texts back a few emojis to make sure Alex knows he’s just as excited, texting the girls that he’s about to go radio silent because he’s getting ready, and that he’ll see them soon.

By seven, Michael has put on the suit and stands in front of the full length mirror to assess himself, feeling like he’s dressed himself to go into battle. As he’s fixing the cufflinks and adjusting his tie, he hears the shutter of a camera behind him, turning to find his mother lingering there.

“Your father would want to see,” she says.

Michael bites back the comment that if he really cared, he’d be here with them. Instead, he gestures for the camera. “C’mon, let’s get one with you in it,” he insists, and uses his powers to float the phone up as his mother stands behind him and wraps her arms protectively around him, kissing his cheek. 

He’d protest, but he’s busy focusing on taking pictures, from as many angles as he can, laughing when she keeps peppering kisses on him like he’s still seven.

“Mom, stop!” he insists, reaching out to grab for the phone and handing it back to her. “How do I look?”

She gives him a light prod to get him turning in a circle, and when he comes back to the position he’d started from, she’s near tears. “You look every bit the prince that I knew you’d grow up to be. It doesn’t matter if you’re never king or never even a prince when you go back home, you’re my baby,” she says, and yeah, there she goes.

He’s going to start crying if he isn’t careful.

“I’m so proud of you, baby.”

“Mom, stop,” he pleads again, but this time it’s because he’s getting choked up and he doesn’t want to show up to prom with tear-tracks running down his face. He takes in a deep breath and adjusts his jacket, wishing that Isobel and Max were here for this, but he’ll make sure to send them the picture through the next information packet back home.

He’s ready.

At least, he thinks he is. 

“Good luck,” his Mom says, slipping him some money and a few condoms, which has him gaping at her. “I want you to be safe, just in case.”

“It would be moving pretty fast,” Michael protests, trying to avoid a conversation with his mother about how he’s _never_ done that, and he’s not sure he wants to go from first date to fucking with Alex on prom night, even if that does seem to be one of the parts of this human ritual he’d keep running into. Still, he wants to avoid the conversation, so he grabs for both the money and condoms, shoving them into his pockets.

He’s red as a tomato by the time he leaves, but he gets out of the house. 

The drive to the school is the same one he takes every day, but it feels wildly different. It’s strangely more important, so maybe he’s starting to understand why prom means so much to people, because he’s one of them now, isn’t he? Thanks to Alex and their date, this night means so much more.

Stepping out of his truck, he starts to head towards the crowd, standing tall at his full height and feeling regal even if he doesn’t have his crown on. He feels more like the prince he is than he has in years. He’s used to buttons and collars and ties, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t fidget as he approaches the gym because it’s been a while since he’s been in any formal garments.

Michael is fixing the cufflinks of the suit, standing in the door of the gym, when he hears a sharp inhalation of breath behind him. Turning, Michael finds Alex standing there in a shiny blue suit, wearing a pink flower in his buttonhole, one that matches Michael’s, which Maria had made sure that Alex got. 

He's seen Alex every single day since he started going to Roswell High. Yet, in this moment, Michael thinks that he looks like the most handsome man in the world and it twists up his heart and other parts of him in ways he could never have expected. His gaze slides over Alex with the suit, stupidly pleased with the fact that Alex is still wearing eyeliner and the nose piercing, like he doesn’t care what anyone is going to say.

“Wow,” Michael exhales. “You’re…” _Breathtaking_ , he thinks. He’s handsome, he’s suave, he’s gorgeous, he’s. “…perfect.” 

Alex’s mouth is open and he’s shaking his head. “I didn’t realize you could clean up so nicely,” he blurts out at the same time as Michael speaks. “You look great,” he says. His eyes slide to where the photographer has set up under an arch. “Do you want to get a picture?”

“My mom threatened my life if I didn’t, so, yeah,” Michael jokes as they head towards the arch.

The photographer looks around for a moment, like he’s trying to find their dates, but clearly Alex has steeled himself up for this. “It’s just us,” he says, with a tone that implies that if he wants to argue about that, Alex is more than happy to. 

They take about ten different pictures. In some of them, Michael is holding onto Alex and some go the other way around, but they make sure to take a few with the girls, a few funny ones, and a few serious ones. “You look like an actual person!” Liz teases Michael. “Look at you!”

“I’m impressed,” Maria agrees with a tip of her invisible cap. 

“It’s only Alex’s opinion that matters,” he says, and turns his besotted look to the man in question.

Alex is taking his time slowly letting his gaze roam over Michael’s body from the shined formal shoes to the pressed pants, to the alien cufflinks, and right up to the tie and Michael’s hair. “He looks like the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Michael’s breath catches in his throat. 

“I told you that he liked you,” are Maria’s parting words before she tugs Liz away from them. 

Michael can’t help feeling like he hasn’t said enough about how good Alex looks. “I just put on my Dad’s suit, but you look incredible,” he raves, reaching out to grab Alex by the lapels of the suit to drag him closer to him, feeling the material and staring at how good he looks with the eyeliner. He drags his thumb over the nose piercing, then to the rings on his fingers, laughing a little. “Wouldn’t be Alex Manes without the accessories.”

“Definitely not,” Alex agrees, though he reaches down to rub his finger over the cufflinks. Michael feels his breath catch again as they shimmer to Alex’s touch, and then Alex moves to touch the signet ring. “You’ve got some of your own, tonight.”

“Family heirlooms,” he agrees, sounding hoarse. 

Maybe those condoms are gonna get used, if Alex keeps touching him like this. Michael adjusts his grip on Alex’s suit so he doesn’t wrinkle it, reminding himself that this is just the beginning of the night. He feels lightheaded and giddy that this is happening at all, and he doesn’t really intend to let go of Alex, even though they’re probably congesting the picture area.

“We should probably go see what else is going on,” Michael says, since he could use a nice cold drink (or a cold shower) to calm himself down. 

“Let’s head inside,” Alex says, twining his fingers with Michael’s so they’re holding hands.

It's perfect. The sun has finally set and the twilight has made the night temperature mild and pleasant. Maria and Liz have gone straight inside to give them some time alone, and Michael’s more appreciative than he can say. He tugs on Alex’s hand before he can go into the gym, where everyone else is, wanting to take advantage of this perfect moment.

“Alex,” Michael breathes out and keeps tugging on his hand to get him to stumble closer. The way Alex laughs, carefree and adoring, makes Michael realize how stupidly in love he is with him, and he knows that he wants to try and steal a kiss from him.

It's the perfect moment, after all.

Maybe that’s why it has to be ruined. 

Michael’s in the middle of sliding his fingers over Alex’s cheek to get his hand in his hair when he hears a derisive, hateful snort over his shoulder. 

“It figures I’d see you two like this.” That’s Valenti behind them. When Michael turns, he can see that he’s got his football goons with him and every muscle tenses when he senses that without Liz here to help protect them, this won’t go well. “I should have known that you two were going to come here together. The little looks over lunch were bad enough, now you’re going to make us watch it all night, you f…”

“Kyle!”

Liz’s voice cuts through the air like a siren. Valenti freezes up. Michael can feel Alex straining against the hold that Michael has on him. It’s both the shock and the willingness to let Alex drift forward that he gets away from Michael’s hold, the suit slipping through his fingertips. Michael lingers behind him, appraising the situation carefully. 

As much as he’d love to deck Valenti right here and now, this isn’t his fight. It’s not Michael that Valenti has been picking at for years; it’s Alex. Whatever happens here tonight, it’s Alex who has to stand up to him, not Michael, even though he desperately wants to. 

“What?” Alex challenges. “Say it, Kyle. Say what you wanted to say.”

“It’s…I don’t…”

Liz stares at them, her red dress a contrast in a sea of suits and the furious look in her eyes is as alarming a shade as the fabric. “Kyle, what are you doing?”

“You’re not like us, Manes. Your Daddy knows it. We know it.” His eyes slide past Alex’s shoulder to where Michael is standing, shaking his head. “You’re a freak. Makes sense that you came to prom with one of the other freaks. Tonight, are you gonna suck on his tiny hot dog and grapes…”

Valenti doesn’t get another word out because Alex tackles him, elbow back as he connects with a right hook. 

Valenti isn’t willing to let that go without a fight and he fumbles out of the hold the linebacker’s got him in, landing a punch that splits Alex’s lip. Michael’s relationship with his powers has always been heavily controlled, but there’s a moment where it almost slips. Instead of shoving Valenti halfway across the school with only his mind, he lunges forward to get in between the two of them, shoving Valenti aside and dragging Alex out of the way of another punch.

He waits for another attack, but it never comes. 

It seems like Valenti is busy trying to beg forgiveness from Liz, but Michael doesn’t give a shit. He tugs on his sleeve until it covers his palm a little, raising it up to dab at Alex’s bleeding lip.

“Hey,” he breathes out. “You okay?”

Alex pushes at Michael’s hand and licks that lower lip, staring at Michael with a heated look. It’s scaring the shit out of him, because he doesn’t want Alex so upset or angry that he storms off. If Valenti’s ruined prom for them before it even started, then Michael’s going to jump him in the nearest alley. 

“Come on,” Alex says, and drags Michael to the bleachers, pulling him along the whole time. Michael isn’t sure if he should try and talk some sense into Alex or try to convince Alex to go back to the dance, but instead he lets Alex pull him along.

Whatever mood the fight’s got him in, it’s a state that Michael’s never seen before, but he’s not hating it. That adrenaline-fueled wildness that’s coiled in his muscles makes Michael watch him like he’s a wild animal. He still would _never_ expect what happens next.

Alex paces back and forth for a few moments, but then he grabs Michael by the shoulders and backs him up against the bleachers. “Alex?” Michael asks, heart pounding as he stares at his bloody lip and the look of determination in his eyes. He doesn’t think Alex is about to lose his mind and flip out on him, but human beings are a wild and unpredictable species, so who knows what Alex is about to do?

He doesn’t punch him. He doesn’t say a thing.

Instead, he slides both hands inside Michael’s suit jacket to grab his waist and pulls himself forward before he kisses Michael, frantic and determined. His fingers squeeze and tighten, which gives Michael the opportunity to slide his fingers over the nape of Alex’s neck, tangling into spikes of hair as he kisses him back with every ounce of desire he’s been feeling since he first met him.

In that moment, it feels like they’re connected. 

There’s nothing else in the universe outside of this kiss and for a brief moment, they aren’t two people, but _one_ and Michael wants to melt forward into Alex’s body so it never has to end. It does, though, because while he might be an alien, he’s got lungs the same as any other human. 

Michael gapes at Alex when he eases back to draw in a ragged breath.

It’s not just his first kiss with a human or a man. It’s his first kiss _ever_ because his life has been all about duty and the future or the scientific contributions he can make. It hadn’t really left much time for romance.

“Was that, is that, are you okay?” Alex rambles, touching his cut lip.

Michael licks his lips and realizes he can taste the blood on his tongue.

Instead of saying anything, he feels like he’s been magnetized, pulled back into Alex’s orbit until he’s kissing him again, tangling his fingers into Alex’s hair. Michael thinks that he could stay here forever if Alex just kept kissing him like this. His hips work their way into the conversation as they rock forward and find friction with Alex moving back against him.

It’s Alex who pulls back this time, when the music drifting towards them shifts from something upbeat (Liz’s song, if Michael listens carefully enough) to a slow-paced song, something romantic sounding. It’s tinny and distant seeing as it’s coming from the gym and they’re still under the bleachers, but Alex holds out his hand to Michael. “Do you wanna dance with me?”

Michael hasn’t said anything in a long time and he’s starting to think he actually can’t. Instead, he nods, feeling unmoored. There’s one thing that he wants to do, though. It’s a _fuck you_ to Kyle Valenti, but also to the whole rest of the school.

“Not here,” is what Michael says, and takes Alex’s hand to lead him back to the gym.

He knows what this means, but he’s never cared what this group of earthlings thinks about him and Alex has been out since Michael had first met him. He keeps his chin up, passing Valenti (who’s nursing his bruised cheek) and walks Alex right to the middle of the dance floor. Even though it’s just the gym, the mirror ball that hangs from the ceiling refracts light and makes everything sparkle, turning it into a romantic landscape that he almost doesn’t recognize.

As the singer croons, _nothing you confess could make me love you less_ , Michael slides his palm over Alex’s back and turns them so that his hand is on Alex’s neck, the other hand on his hip. Alex has decided to wrap both his arms around Michael’s back so he can pull him in. All around them, the lights sparkle, and Michael feels like he might accidentally let his powers float them in the air. 

“This okay?” he asks nervously. 

“Yeah. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Michael agrees, and the music makes his heart ache, because the guitar and the lyrics combine and _I'll stand by you, won't let nobody hurt you_ is so close to how he feels about Alex that it robs his breath. “Never done this before with …”

“With a guy?” Alex interrupts him, laughing nervously.

He shakes his head. “With anyone,” Michael confesses. His whole life has been about problems and equations and numbers. No one’s ever allowed him to follow his heart and have moments like this. He’s danced before, but he doesn’t count those stilted waltzes with royal instructors as actual dancing.

Michael closes his eyes and leans forward to press his forehead to Alex’s as they sway back and forth. Alex feels so warm in his arms and he slides his fingers slowly up the fabric of Michael’s suit jacket until his fingers tangle with his curls. He sucks in a sharp breath, easing back to stare at Alex, eyes half-lidded. 

Everyone in the gym could be staring at them (and they probably are), but he doesn’t give a shit. As far as he’s concerned, the only person that exists in this world is Alex Manes – painted silver and white by the swirling spotlights hitting the glittering ball above them, the world vanishing except for Alex, Michael, and the music.

It’s only when the song is coming to an end that something disturbs this perfect moment. 

_And I'll never desert you_ is the last lyric that he hears and Michael feels a flash of guilt, knowing that he’s not going to be able to keep that promise, no matter how much he wants to. He swallows the lump in his throat, staring at Alex as they keep swaying, even though the music has changed to something else upbeat.

“Hi,” Alex says, like he’s seeing Michael for the first time in his life again, now that the spell around them has broken.

Michael laughs, because _wow_. He sees Liz and Maria staring at them from where they’re dancing together nearby, both of them looking like they might be on the verge of tears. He’s just not so sure whether they’re good ones or bad ones. 

Given what had happened earlier with Valenti, Michael knows that they need to go to talk to Liz and be there for her, but he kind of hopes that she’s okay with that being tomorrow. Right now, he wants to spend the rest of the night with Alex. 

They get a few more dances in together before alone time is decidedly over. Alex abandons him for all of twenty seconds to grab Liz and Maria to join them for the rest of the night. 

“Are you okay?” Maria shouts above the music, gesturing to Alex’s split lip.

Alex is staring at Michael when he answers, his tie loosened, his hair wild, and sweat dripping down his neck in a way that makes Michael jealous of his collar for getting to absorb it. “I’m amazing,” he vows, leaning in to kiss her cheek, then Liz’s. “Sorry,” he says to Liz. “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s fine,” Liz cuts him off, raising up a hand like she intends to physically stop him from saying anything else. “It was a long time coming.”

Michael agrees, but also knows that it’s probably in poor taste to actually _say_ that. 

He's still grateful that they can distract her from her troubles, but also because it has the handy trick of keeping him from doing something stupid like pinning Alex to the nearest wall and kissing him until that mark on his lip isn’t the only discolored thing going on. His eyes still linger on him as they dance (Alex, Liz, and Maria all with grace and poise and Michael with finger guns) and he doubts that he could look away if he tried. 

It's nearing midnight when their little group starts to break up, mainly because they’re all too aware of Alex’s curfew, which means that while the party might continue, he’s not a part of it. Liz checks her phone, nudging Maria. “Rosa’s waiting with the limo,” she says. “I wanna go make sure she hasn’t made her way into the mini bar.”

“Good idea,” Maria agrees, leaning forward to kiss Alex’s cheek, followed by Michael’s. “I’m so proud of the two of you. We’ll see you Monday?”

“Monday,” Michael agrees, and watches the girls go. He checks his watch and uses the changing songs as an opportunity to tug Alex to the side of the gym. “You wanna get out of here? Head home?” he asks, seeing as there’s about twenty minutes before Alex is due back and to be safe, they should take every second to make sure they’re on time.

“I mean,” Alex protests, looking like he might do something stupid like suggest they stay, “I don’t _want_ to, but I should.”

That deserves a kiss and seeing as Michael doesn’t have to hold back anymore, he cups Alex’s face in his hands and kisses him for that bravery. 

Honestly, if he kissed Alex every time that he thought he deserved something, they’d never stop making out, but judging from how good it’s felt, Michael’s not so sure that’s a bad thing. 

Michael drives Alex home, his lips still tingling every time he thinks of their kisses. His skin feels like Alex has left a handprint on him while they had been dancing and that connection that he swears has existed between them since they met feels stronger than ever. Michael pulls up outside of the Manes residence, staring at Alex, unsure what he’s supposed to say. Tonight has been the most incredible, magical night of his life and it’s left Michael feeling things that he could have only ever previously imagined existing in stories.

“I’ll see you at school on Monday?” Alex says.

Michael’s not paying much attention to the words, seeing as he’s leaning half over the seat to rub his thumb over Alex’s split lip like he can heal it. He wants to duck forward and kiss him again, but he’s ever cognizant of the fact that they’re at the Manes residence and there are reasons why he shouldn’t with the porch lights still on.

Alex looks like he doesn’t want to get out, but it’s not like he has a choice, what with his father’s rules preventing him from staying. “I don’t want to go,” he protests. 

He probably can’t kiss him in full view of the Manes house, but Michael takes Alex’s hand in his own, bending down to press soft kisses to each of Alex’s mildly bruised knuckles where he can’t be seen. “Monday,” is what he says, and he knows they’ll have plenty to talk about on Monday, but for now, he wants to ride this high. He presses one last kiss to the center of Alex’s palm, grinning at him as he eases back. “I can’t wait to see you again.”

Alex lets himself out of the car, taking his time drifting back towards the house. When he’s on the porch, he presses a kiss to his closed hand and then extends it, waving to Michael before he lets himself into his house.

Michael lets his head hit the rest behind him, staring dreamily up at the moon and the stars. He knows that Max and Isobel are worlds away, but as he stares up at the stars, he grins like they can see him. “I can’t wait to tell you guys about this. You’re not gonna believe how lucky I got,” he says, shaking his head as he closes his eyes and thinks about the kiss and the dance again.

Now that he knows what it’s like to kiss Alex Manes, he doubts he’s ever going to want to stop. Hopefully, Alex will be okay with that, but that’s a Monday morning conversation they’ll have. Until then, Michael has his memories and his dreams to get him through the remainder of this lonely night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I live for people coming to talk to me on [tumblr](https://andrea-lyn.tumblr.com/) about things? I really, really do.


	7. Chapter 7

The next week at school, prom seems to have set off a chain reaction. Now that the dance is done, everyone’s attention seems to shift towards getting ready for graduation, even though it’s a month away. Michael’s trying his best to keep his head down. The whole bit where he’s not planning on moving on to anything else isn’t a conversation that he wants to have, especially not when the only thing he wants to talk about is what happens next between him and Alex. Besides, he has better things to think about than graduation. 

It’s Monday morning and even though it’s only been 36 hours since he dropped Alex off at home, he hasn’t stopped thinking about him or dreaming about him or _wanting_ him. 

“Do you still have that condom?” had been his mother’s first question when he’d arrived home.

It’s probably not super mature of him to have thrown it at his mother, but he’d been flush with the kisses and the dances and his insane crush on Alex Manes coming to fruition. He’d gone to bed that night with his phone pressed to his chest, a dreamy look on his face, and that night, his mind had been filled of thoughts of his and Alex’s first kiss, first dance, first moments being together and knowing what they felt for one another.

It's probably the happiest that Michael has ever been, even happier than those times when he’d seen his inventions put into use.

Monday means seeing Alex again, which comes with a healthy dose of eagerness, but also nerves. While he still feels good about how they’d left things, this is an open field of possibility for Michael and it has absolutely nothing to do with graduation, which means his focus is elsewhere.

It could go well.

It could also go up in flames, seeing as this isn’t exactly Michael’s strong suit.

He has absolutely no idea how to navigate any of this and that’s terrifying to him. It’s the only time in his life that he’s ever just _not known_ and while he and Alex had spent Sunday texting each other, they hadn’t broached any serious topics and had instead just talked about music and movies. 

Now it’s time to face the main event.

Or, rather, face the handsome boy that Michael’s in love with. That’s really not so hard when he puts it like that and he grins as he tightens his backpack straps and locks his truck, heading towards their usual haunt. 

When he arrives at the picnic tables for pre-class studying, he forgets that what happened at prom isn’t all fun and games. Michael staggers to a stop when he sees Liz crying, being comforted by Maria and Alex. _Fuck_. He almost forgot about that. Alex’s lip is still a little bruised from the fight that kicked off the chain reaction that’s led to Liz crying, but he looks confident and suave and so _good_. He really shouldn’t be thinking about how Alex looks when his friend is in distress.

Michael squeezes his nails into his palm to curb those thoughts before he marches right over to join the comfort pile, sitting on the bench between Liz’s feet where she’s planted them, peering up at her. “Can I say that Valenti’s a dick, now?”

“You’re a little late,” Liz admits, laughing through her tears, “but yeah, you can say it.”

Michael feels victorious that he got a laugh out of her and he even tolerates when Liz sinks a hand in Michael’s curls, like he’s a dog for her to pet. She just dumped an asshole; he thinks that she’s allowed to abuse him a little. 

“I’m sorry,” Alex says, rubbing her arm from where he’s perched on the table at Liz’s left side. “I know that you really liked him.”

“I did,” Liz agrees, her voice shaky. “It makes me feel like a bad friend, though. I always knew he was saying those things about you when I wasn’t around, but I told myself that I could make him stop. Then, hearing him say it at prom just because he thought I wasn’t there…” She sags forward, her chin hitting the top of Michael’s head. “I shouldn’t have stood by and let that happen.”

“Liz, it’s fine. I gave him a reason to stop,” Alex promises, and Michael can’t crane his neck up to look at him, but Alex sounds like he’s confident and might just be smirking from the tone in his voice.

“And then some,” Maria agrees. “He’s been walking around with sunglasses all day sulking, because everyone heard that he got beat up by Alex Manes at prom. I’m pretty sure Rosa’s trying to get it trending.”

“That sounds like Rosa,” Liz agrees, wiping at her eyes when Michael eases back to straddle the bench, looking up at his friends. “It’s probably for the best. I really don’t think either of us were ready to try the long distance thing when he went to Michigan and I started on my road trip, but I guess I had high hopes that we wouldn’t be breaking up because he’s a homophobic asshole.”

“He wasn’t always like that,” Alex says, and there’s a soft note of pain in his words. “I miss that Kyle.”

“Me too,” Liz says quietly, reaching out to squeeze Alex’s hand. They all stay huddled for a moment, no studying getting done. For a while, they they don’t move, but eventually Michael feels the air around them shift from grief to something else when Liz pokes him in the back. “Where did you two get to after the fight? I mean, everyone saw you dancing a little while later,” she teases. “I told you he liked you,” she tells Michael. “And I told you that he adored you!” is her pointed comment to Alex, so it looks like Michael hadn’t been the only one getting pushed into something.

Michael glances at Alex, wondering if they’re going to talk about what happened out at the bleachers, especially when he’s been waiting to talk to him about the whole thing in general.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” Alex beats him to the punch, all sly and smooth.

Maria gasps and Liz smacks Michael in the shoulder. “There was kissing?” Maria confirms, her eyes wide. “I told you we just needed to get them dressed up,” she pokes Liz. “Guerin even looked like some kind of Prince Charming in that suit of his,” she adds, waggling her brows flirtatiously at him.

He smirks right back at her. “You don’t know the half of it, DeLuca.” None of them do, and Michael plans to keep it that way. He doesn’t need them fawning over him the way that people do at home. He likes that they give him sass and poke fun at him and basically let him be normal. 

Michael’s not entirely sure he’d known normal until Earth. He’s not ready to give that up so easily.

Maria checks her watch, nodding at Liz. “Come on, we should go clean up before class.”

Liz nods, prying herself from the cuddle pile that she’s a part of, though she takes the time to press a kiss to Alex and then Michael’s cheek before she lets Maria tug her away, on their way to the bathroom to clean up her makeup before class. 

Before Michael can follow along to offer his help – he’s pretty good with eyeliner, given how much he helps both the girls and Alex with a steady hand -- Alex gently snags Michael by the sleeve of his hoodie to stop him, gesturing to the bleachers. Michael’s proud that he doesn’t blush, but he checks their time to make sure they have time before the first bell goes. They do, even if it’s only ten minutes.

“Can we talk?” Alex asks hopefully. 

Michael nods, not trusting himself to say anything. If he opens his mouth, there’s every chance he's going to be an idiot and say something stupid he can’t walk back. He follows Alex over to the bleachers, thinking about how even though they have the light of day, Alex looks every bit as glorious in the sun as he had in the starshine. 

Before Michael can open his mouth and ask what Alex wants to start with, he finds himself pinned against the bleachers again, kissed to the point of breathlessness.

Alex eases back and Michael’s left panting, tangling his fingers in Alex’s collar to yank him back for another kiss. He shouldn’t think he can get away so easily, but luckily Alex goes without a fight. Of those ten minutes, Michael makes sure they bleed a good two of them tangled up together – Alex’s fingers in Michael’s hood, Michael digging the heel of his sneaker into Alex’s calf to try and pull him closer.

“If you’re gonna keep doing that here, I might start thinking bleachers are a turn on for you,” Michael quips, when he finally lets Alex go.

“Only when you’re the one against them,” Alex replies, his gaze fixed on Michael’s lips. 

“I could find a knife, carve our initials in here beside ‘Valenti is a dick’?”

Alex gives him an unimpressed look, his gaze sliding to the engraving that hadn’t been there during prom. Michael beams proudly, because it’s not his fault that he’d taken a walk on Sunday to relive the memory and no one had been around. That look on Alex’s face dissolves into a fond laugh as he shakes his head, absently toying with the hem of Michael’s shirt. 

“So are we…”

“I don’t know,” Michael admits, when Alex trails off and doesn’t give a name to what they are. “What do you want to be? Because,” he keeps going, deciding that he kind of wants to be selfish, “I think I want you to be my boyfriend. For sure I don’t want you being anyone else’s,” he guarantees. “The only hitch in that plan is I’ve never dated anyone before, so I’m not exactly sure what being a boyfriend is like.”

Alex looks like he’s in a dream state, which Michael is happy to keep him in, in the event that’s questionable at all.

“It’s not like I’m an expert. You’re pretty much the only person who’s ever shown interest in me,” he deadpans.

“Lies,” Michael insists, feeling pretty secure in that. “There have definitely been heartbroken girls along the way and probably a couple more guys than you’ve ever realized.” He tugs on Alex’s collar so he can pull him in close, relaxing as Alex bears him into the bleachers with a kiss filled with more tenderness than before.

He could definitely, absolutely, completely get used to this.

Alex only eases back when the warning bell goes off, giving Michael a hopeful look. “Feel like ditching?”

“I kind of did that a lot before asking you to prom, so I’m pretty close to suspension if I don’t go to class,” Michael admits, which is only a shitty option because his mother would get that ‘I’m so disappointed in you’ look on her face.

He tries to avoid that look at all costs. 

“Okay, then, after class…?”

“I’ll meet you by the bleachers,” he guarantees, like they aren’t about to see one another for the next five periods and lunch, but even knowing that there’s a plan to get his lips on Alex’s later makes getting through the day so much easier. 

Alex is the one who finally pulls away and tugs on Michael’s hand to lead him to class. 

It's only when they sit down beside one another in first period that Michael realizes how absolutely devious his boyfriend ( _boyfriend_ , he thinks, with an idiotically fond look on his face) is. It’s because Alex waits until the teacher walks in and starts setting up to lean over to him, nudging Michael to get his attention.

Michael rolls his eyes, ready to playfully chide Alex for distracting him more than he already does – because honestly, the way he fidgets in class with his fingers stroking the desk is way too fucking attention-grabbing – when Alex bites his lip and drags Michael’s gaze down to it.

“What?” he whispers, throwing him a look that warns him about them getting in trouble.

Alex shrugs, and they really are going to get thrown in detention at this rate, given the stink-eye they’re getting from Mr. Connelly. 

“I just thought you’d want to know,” Alex whispers, “that I got my birthday wish on prom night when we kissed.”

Michael opens his mouth to croak out any words at all, but he doesn’t make it before the lesson starts. He’s left gaping at Alex and yearning to touch him, if only to keep giving him all those birthday wishes come to life.

He’ll have to wait until school’s out and they’re by the bleachers.

Lucky for Michael, he can be a very patient man when he knows he’s getting something good out of it. Kisses from Alex, and knowing that he, Michael Guerin, somehow _he_ had been his birthday wish? That’s not only good, that’s fucking _great_. That’s worth waiting years for.

* * *

The next weekend, Michael comes home to find the garage open and the communications array being booted up from its dormant state. It’s still dusty, from the lack of use. The relay back to Antar can’t be used all the time, mainly because the power they need to generate for it would call attention to themselves if they ran it every single week. 

When he wanders inside to ask why it’s running, his mother gives him a fond look, stroking a hand over his curls. “It was supposed to be a surprise,” she admits, but clearly hadn’t counted on Michael noticing what’s incredibly obvious as far as he’s concerned. “I wanted you to be able to talk to your cousins,” she says, and there’s a sly look on her face.

She’s absolutely going to eavesdrop on him, but he can’t bring himself to care. It’s been ages since he got to talk to Isobel and Max and he misses them desperately. He gives her a grateful kiss on the cheek and bolts for the garage to wait while she connects everything, squirming as he waits for the video to boot up. When the machine flickers to life and the holographic camera displays Isobel and Max sitting on their end, everything else fades away and nothing else matters. For the first time in almost a year, he’s seeing his family again and it’s left him grinning like an idiot.

He’s never going to tell them how much he’d missed them, but he’s sure his mother can feel the avalanche of affection pouring off his aura. 

“Michael!” Isobel’s glee is infectious, even if she’s light years away, showing that she’s no better. Even Max looks happy to see him, in his own subdued and relieved way. “It’s been so long, look at you, you look…” Her eyes rove over him and he can see her surprise. “You look decent.”

“You could sound less shocked,” he protests, but he’s grinning like an idiot, watching as Max tries to wrestle his way forward to get a better look at him. 

They both look good. Isobel’s trying out a new hairstyle, from the looks of it, and the bangs are kind of working for her. He would never say so, because Michael’s approval might send her to the royal stylist more than assure her that she’s chosen the right hair. Max looks like he’s grown a few inches and definitely gained a little more muscle.

“Royal trainer got you working out?” he quips, smirking at Max as he mock-flexes his own bicep (which definitely has nothing going for it).

He’s _living_ for Max rolling his eyes, and it hits him with how much he’d missed having them around. His earth friends are really nice and great, but the only problem is that they don’t understand either the alien thing or the royal expectations thing the way that Max and Isobel do. They’d always been three partners in crime together and while he knows he’d been the one to actively choose to come to earth, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t miss them like crazy. 

Michael glances over his shoulder to make sure that his mother isn’t standing there, because as much as he loves her, he feels like she already knows way too much from skimming his emotions when he or Alex is around. He wants to share _everything_ with Max and Iz. He’s not so sure he wants his mother to know the details.

“So, are we gonna do the royal breakdown of boring duties first or…?”

“Your Mom said this was _important_ ,” Isobel cuts him off. “So, what’s she like? Is she a scientist? Is she hot?”

He can feel himself blushing and he presses his fingers to his cheek to try to stem some of that. They both know that Michael’s never been with anyone, so for him to be dating anyone is a big deal. He fidgets with his cell phone to find a picture of him and Alex together at prom, turning it to show him off with the proudest smile he’s ever worn.

Max squints as he leans forward, the relay broadcasting the whole of them and not just their faces. “And his name is…?”

“Alex Manes,” Michael shares, flipping through more pictures as Isobel aggressively grunts and motions for him to keep flipping. He laughs and keeps going through the prom pictures. “They have this thing called prom here. You know the royal balls we used to have to go to as kids?”

“How could I forget?” Isobel complains. “Don’t you remember the year the designers put me in that monstrosity of lace and tulle?” she snorts. “I was a tiny six-year-old drowning in fabric. I’m pretty sure at one point, I just sort of collapsed into it and it held me up like a chair.” She leans forward. “He’s _gorgeous_ , Michael.”

Michael’s preening, because, “Yeah, he’s pretty great. He plays guitar and has the most incredible voice when he sings. He’s smart, too. He loves screwing around with computers,” he lists, “and he’s kind and funny and…”

He trails off when he sees Max and Isobel exchanging a look. He knows that look. It means they’re using their twin telepathy and thinking something about him so he doesn’t have to hear it.

“What?” he deadpans.

“We’ve never seen you so into someone,” Max says, after glancing to Isobel, like he’s checking to see if they’re actually going to share their opinion. 

“What’s going to happen when you have to come back?” Isobel asks the question that Michael’s been so good at ignoring, on the heels of Max’s observation. “It sounds like you’re really in love with him.”

He hasn’t said the words out loud and he definitely hasn’t said them to Alex, but he knows that it’s true. There’s so much that he hasn’t told them about yet, but he loves Alex, and apparently, it’s so clear that even galaxies away, his cousins can tell. “I have two years,” is his defensive protest. “We’ve only been dating for a week or so, it’s not like we’re about to get married,” is his protest, a comment that has his cheeks flushing red.

Max and Isobel are both giving him matching looks of disappointment.

“You shouldn’t lead him on,” Max chides.

“Who says I am?” Michael’s getting heated and defensive. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll tell him the truth, maybe he’ll leave his shitty home situation and he’ll come with me and you can meet him yourself and…”

“Michael,” Isobel cuts him off.

He stops, only noticing then that everything in the garage had started to vibrate like it might explode. He hears Isobel telling him to breathe and he does, closing his eyes and sagging forward. He can feel his mother’s presence hovering, which means that his distress had bled enough that she can feel it. He knows that she’ll be checking on him if he doesn’t calm down, so he forces himself to breathe.

“You’ve got two more years,” Max says. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Michael wants to share his suspicions about Alex’s home life, he wants to talk about his courses, but he’s pretty sure Isobel only wants to talk about the relationship and Michael kind of wants to hear more about home. He hasn’t used the relay since he got here, so he’s pretty sure he’ll be allowed to keep it going for a while.

Besides, he’s used to letting Max and Isobel take the lead, but he decides it’s his turn.

“I think his Dad hits him,” Michael shares, voice hushed. 

His mother knows exactly what’s happening at the Manes house, Michael is sure she does, but it’s not like they can do anything without abusing their powers. Michael had asked about going to the station, but apparently she had already tried and struck out because Sheriff Valenti had a connection with the man and had insisted he’s ‘keeping an eye on it’. 

“…and what does that mean? He’s okay with ignoring the fact that Alex comes in sometimes with bruised ribs?” he complains. “This whole thing is wrong, but Alex has never come out and told me that his Dad hurts him,” Michael says, fidgeting with one of the tools in the garage, shaking his head. “So if I do anything, I’m overstepping my bounds, right? I want to, though. I hate how nervous he gets about his curfew and when he comes into school obviously hurt, it takes everything in my power not to ask Mom to do something drastic.”

“I hate to say it,” Max begins with Diplomatic Prince voice, so Michael knows he’s fucked, “but I think you can’t do anything. It’s his choice.”

“He should tell me, so I can help make that choice,” Michael grumbles.

“If I was there, I’d melt his Dad’s brain,” Isobel announces imperiously. 

Michael gives them both a hopeful look. “I really wish you guys were. Did your parents say anything about you coming to visit?” he asks, his hope soaring. When he’d made his choice to come to Earth, he’d left a copy of the flight plan with them in case they could get time away.

“You know we want to,” Isobel says gently.

“It’s just that now that we’re almost eighteen, there’s a lot for us to do.”

They’re doing that back and forth thing to deliver bad news and Michael hates it. 

“Besides,” Isobel picks it up, “you’ll be back here in two years. Less than,” she says, with a sunny smile, like it’s a good thing and not the problem that’s destroying Michael’s sanity while he thinks about what’s going to happen when he has to leave Alex. “We’ll just see you then.”

“Sure,” he says, voice small.

He'd wanted to show them earth. He’d wanted to introduce them to his friends so that Max could come to open mic night and Isobel could relentlessly mock Valenti with him, but Michael forgot about the fact that they’re not just kids. They’re royalty, with responsibilities that go beyond setting the table for dinner.

He can sulk later, when he isn’t getting the rare opportunity to talk with them. “Okay, I wanna hear all the hot court gossip,” he insists. “Isobel, don’t let me down.” 

He stays on the line with them for three more hours and his mother has to come into the garage to apologize about needing to shut it down, but they’re on the verge of causing a town-wide brownout. Given that Michael can see the lights starting to pulse, he knows that as much as he wants to hear about their tutor’s terrible perm and the latest hookups amongst the courtiers, there’s no time.

“We’ll talk again soon,” Isobel says. “Kiss your boyfriend for me.”

“I’m gonna kiss him for me,” Michael scoffs, but he’s smiling and he feels looser and more relaxed than he has in months. “I miss you guys. Love you.”

“We love you too, buddy,” Max says. “Hi Aunt Mara,” he greets her properly. “Make sure he’s not doing anything stupid, right?”

His mom wraps her arm around him and squeezes him close. “I make no promises,” she declares, kissing his temple even as Michael tries to squirm out of it, watching as Isobel blows him a kiss and Max smirks at him. His mother lets him go so she can pull the plug, the relay flickering shut and the holographic projection vanishing. 

“You okay?” his mother asks, after there’s been two long minutes and Michael hasn’t moved or said anything.

Michael takes a deep breath and nods. “Yeah, I just kind of had hoped they’d get a chance to come visit earth too,” he admits, but he hadn’t thought about all the responsibilities that he’s ignoring by being here. With them being closer to the line of inheritance, they don’t have as much leeway as him. “Still, I’m not homesick. I’ve got you here and I’ve got Alex.”

“Alex, hmm?” She smiles at him, expectantly. “And are we going to talk about Alex?”

He flushes and shakes his head. “I don’t think I’m ready for that level of embarrassment. We’re going to date,” is what he says, not ready to delve into it any further. “And I like him.” Understatement. Michael knows, absolutely, that he loves him, but he has no intention of letting that slip just yet to his mother, who would be able to tease him constantly about it whereas Isobel and Max can only do it infrequently via relay.

“Okay,” she replies, and she sounds like she doesn’t buy it. “When you’re ready to talk to me, let me know, and we will. Maybe we can even have a milkshake at the Crashdown.” She’s crouched over to tidy up the cords, giving him a sly look. “You could even invite Alex to come.”

She squeezes his shoulder as she passes, leaving Michael to wonder if an alien can combust thanks to embarrassment – right now, it definitely feels possible.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Please note there are descriptions of abuse in this chapter.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [islndgurl777](https://archiveofourown.org/users/islndgurl777) for the beta to help get through this rough part.

Liz is finishing up the last stages of her road trip plans when Michael’s life slips under the microscope again. It’s two weeks to graduation and it’s been three weeks since prom, which means that they’re all getting closer to taking their next steps -- for those of them that have next steps that lead them out of town, that is.

“So when I finish with the road trip, I’ll be ready to move into my dorm,” she says to the group (sans Valenti, because that breakup had been messy and final and he hasn’t been allowed back, even though he’s come back to grovel at least four times now). “Michael, which college are you going to, maybe you could join me for that part of the trip and we could move you in together?”

He shrugs and keeps picking at his food, not noticing that all eyes are on him. “Nah,” he says, shaking his head. 

“Oh, come on, what is it? Harvard? Yale?” She’s finally okay with the fact that he outscores her on her tests, and now she teases him about how he’s going to change the world with his enormous brain. “Don’t tell me you decided to get fancy and go to the _Sorbonne_.”

“No, Ortecho,” Michael retorts, rolling his eyes. “I’m not going to college.”

He keeps eating his sandwich, but from the stunned silence around him, he’s clearly said something wrong.

“What the fuck, Guerin?” Maria demands.

When Michael looks up, Alex is staring at him with something like horror and Liz isn’t too far behind. Michael isn’t sure what he said wrong, honestly, but he peers at them curiously, trying to figure out what’s so weird about the fact that he isn’t going, but then he remembers that he’s supposed to care about this. He's the one who knows he’ll be gone by nineteen (don’t think about it, don’t think about leaving Alex, don’t…), and picking a school is a waste of time and money. The rest of them don’t know that, so they think that Michael is going to take his incredible GPA and throw it down the drain.

“Can we talk?” Alex asks aggressively, staring at Michael. He doesn’t blink once and Michael feels trapped in his gaze.

Michael rolls his eyes, but the concerned looks he’s getting from both Maria and Liz look way too serious for this conversation. “Yeah, fine,” he says, because it’s either talk to Alex or endure whatever overly concerned questions the girls plan to bury him with. He pushes up off the picnic bench, leaning over to grab one more bite of food before going after Alex. He’s not sure what everyone is so shocked for, it’s not like he’s ever participated in any conversation before when it comes to ‘next steps’.

Alex is pacing by the bleachers, his eyes fixed on Michael’s approach. Somehow, he doesn’t think he’s going to end up getting kissed today. On the other hand, he’s still not so sure that his announcement deserves Alex looking so frantic and _angry_. He reaches out to try and reach for Alex, to pull him in or try and calm him down or _something_. 

“Alex…” he starts, trying for calming and hoping it doesn’t come off condescending.

“No,” Alex cuts him off. “No, you don’t get to start this off by trying to calm me down. I want to say what I need to say,” he pleads. “Let me?”

Michael gestures towards him, giving him the go-ahead.

“When I helped you switch your classes so that you could stay here, I was doing it for me,” he admits. “I was being selfish, because I wanted you in all my classes because I liked you and because the thought of you going away to college so early made me feel this pit in my stomach that could have swallowed me whole.” Alex ducks his head down, and when he looks up, his expression is riddled with uncertainty. “I told myself that it was okay to do that because you wanted to stay. I thought it didn’t matter, because a year later, you’d go off to college anyway and be the genius I know you are.”

“Alex,” Michael pleads. “I…”

“I’m not done,” Alex insists, his voice hoarse. “I don’t get a choice for my future. I don’t get to tell my father no, which means that everything I want is already decided for me. You could run circles around anyone you want to. Michael, please…” He reaches out to take Michael’s hands in his own. “Please, reconsider? I’m sure UNM would give you a full ride. I bet any school would, and they’d be lucky to have you.”

Throughout Michael’s life, plenty of people have had faith in him. His tutors have always thought highly of him, and the entire planet had enough faith to give him their whole science and technology program, but no one has ever had such faith without knowing just _how_ smart he was.

And that’s the problem.

“I’m not going to college, Alex.”

“Then, you’re doing what? You’re just gonna hang around here, sit around and do nothing?” 

Alex looks _hurt_ , which is insane. He may be Michael’s boyfriend, but it’s not his life to worry about. 

Michael can feel his frustrations bubbling up to the surface. It doesn’t matter that they’re meant to be keeping a secret, Alex being in the dark like this is _wrong_. He wants to tell him everything. He wants to tell him that there’s no point in him going to college because as soon as he’s nineteen, he’s going back to Antar to help develop the science program and invent new and wondrous things to make them a prosperous and an economic force in the universe.

He can’t tell Alex because it would do two things – it would reveal what he really is to Alex and it would let him know that he’s always been holding this two-way ticket back from everyone, right from the start. Still, to see the tears in Alex’s eyes breaks his heart. 

At least, that’s what he’d thought would do it. 

“I’m not going to college,” is what he says again, feeling hopeless and frustrated. 

It turns out, he’s wrong about the tears being the thing that would break Michael’s heart. “I don’t know where we go from here,” Alex says, and Michael feels the fracture-line of his heart start to widen as Alex releases his hands and takes two very solid steps back. His eyes widen and he feels like his feet are cinder-blocked in place, horror creeping into every cell of his body because Alex isn’t done speaking and Michael knows that this can’t get any better. “I don’t know if you and I can be anything if you’re going to waste your life.”

There it is. He’s not sure how his anatomy differs from that of the earthlings, but Michael blinks past his tears, because he’s fairly sure he just felt his heart shatter in that moment.

“I just…” Alex rubs a hand over his face. “I’m sorry.”

Then, he leaves. He turns and he walks away from Michael. 

Michael stands there for what feels like an eternity. He only ends up moving because the baseball team is coming out to practice and if he stands there, statue-like, any longer, someone’s going to ask him what’s wrong. He’s pretty sure he’ll break down and crumple the bleachers in a single motion if anyone does that.

He tightens his backpack straps and walks home on autopilot, so numb to the rest of the world around him that he doesn’t register his phone buzzing in his pocket, or the fact that he nearly gets hit by a car when he doesn’t pay attention at a crossing. 

When he gets home, he drops his backpack in the front hall, standing there unmoving, until his mother comes back from the market. She drops the bags and he opens their connection when he feels the onslaught of concern.

_I told him I wasn’t going to college and because I couldn’t tell him the truth, that’s all I could tell him. He said I was wasting my life._

“Sweetheart,” his mother exhales, stepping back like the words actually forced her back, but the next moment she’s surging forward to wrap her arms around him as tightly as she can. 

He buries his face in her neck, clinging on desperately tight. She holds him, soothing him, and rubs his back as they stand there for what feels like hours, though Michael knows it’s only minutes. He can’t bear to think about the idea that things with him and Alex are done, but how is he supposed to move on from what Alex said?

Not to mention, does Alex even want him anymore?

His mother gets him situated in his bedroom, though she hesitates by the door. 

“Michael,” his mother says gently. “Are you sure you don’t want anything else? Food, maybe?”

“I’ll be fine,” he lies. He’s curled up with a bottle of acetone, a blanket, and one of Alex’s hoodies that he’d lent him. It’s only been a few hours, but he can’t stop hearing Alex telling him that he’s wasting his life in his head, all because Michael can’t tell him the truth. Michael has been lying to his boyfriend and they’re fighting because of it.

She looks like she’s about to turn and leave him, but Michael’s not sure he can bear isolation right now. 

“Don’t go,” he pleads. It turns out that he does need something.

Or maybe it’s just that he needs to avoid being alone right now. 

She doesn’t need to hear anything else, it looks like, because she crawls into bed with him, rubbing his back like she used to when he was little and refused to nap. He’d always wanted to keep on reading the latest chapter of his book or working on a new problem, and she would rub his back and hum to him until he fell asleep. 

Michael feels like he won’t be sleeping for a while. He can’t stop himself from wondering what he was supposed to say that didn’t end with, “I’m going back to my home planet, so what does it matter?”

“Did you and Dad, did you ever fight? The kind of really awful fight that you didn’t know how to get back from?” he asks quietly. “I’m lying to Alex,” he admits. “We fought because he thinks I’m wasting my life and I can’t even tell him the truth without putting us at risk.”

He knows she’s not about to tell him that he can let Alex know the truth, but god, he wants to. There’s nothing more he wants in that moment. 

“Your father and I don’t fight much,” she admits, a catch in her tone. “I suppose we stacked the deck. We learned early in our marriage that while we love each other deeply, we both have our own passions. Your father is so devoted and loyal to Antar’s cause and the army, but if I stayed, I would have been trapped in a gilded cage. We don’t see one another often, you know that. I’m not sure that our lack of fighting would hold if we were together. I loved him when I married him and I love him now. Distance may make the heart grow fonder, but I’ve never wanted to give up my life to run back to him. He’s never done the same, but in reverse.”

She’s telling him things he already knows. Michael has always known that his parents are one step away from being separated, and that maybe the distance is what’s keeping them together. It still hurts to hear.

“You’re still here for two years,” she says. “You might not be going to college, but you are going to need to do something, because I know you and you’ll be finished with your project in less than three months. We’ll come up with something,” she promises. “When we do, then you can tell Alex what your plan is.”

Michael nods, feeling exhausted with the grief.

He's almost too exhausted to think about the fact that there will be distance between them anyway. Even if Michael comes up with a lie (or a truth that he figures out) in the next few days, Alex’s father is still going to make him enlist in the Air Force and ship him off as soon as he can.

One way or another, Michael’s not sure he sees a future for them that they get to spend together.

Gulping back half the bottle of acetone to try and numb that grim reality, he sags back into his mother’s touch and thinks that whatever he thought might come of a relationship, this kind of grief isn’t it.

* * *

It's been three days since he and Michael fought at the bleachers.

Alex has the phone on his chest and he’s staring at it warily, not sure what’s supposed to happen next. He’s never been in a relationship, let alone with someone he really loves, and that definitely means he’s never fought with a boyfriend. Is he supposed to apologize? 

He stands by what he’d said. Michael’s the smartest person he’s ever met and he’s planning to sit around Roswell and waste all that talent? It’s insane. He would be wasting his life to do that.

Still, is he really going to throw their relationship away over the fact that Michael has made a decision not to go to school? That doesn’t mean he isn’t going to do anything with his life. He could skip school completely, especially seeing as some days it feels like Michael could be the one teaching their shop and physics classes. Maybe he’ll start his own business and when Alex is done with a tour of the Air Force to fulfill his father’s wishes, then he can be with him again.

Maybe. It’s all _maybe_ , maybe, possibly. 

Still, none of that can happen if they’re fighting and broken up, which means that Alex has a mission and his first step is to make sure that he has something to fight for; something to come back to. He leans forward to pry his phone from his chest into his hands, toying with it as he avoids looking at Michael’s text thread.

He texts Liz a few times to make sure she’s doing all right, and she sends him back pictures of San Diego, which she vows to take Alex to, in the event he decides to run away. He chats briefly with Maria and they make plans for the weekend.

Then, only when he thinks he has the courage to do it, he pulls up his text thread with Michael. 

The last few messages are all from Michael and Alex scrolls up through the various apologies, pleas to talk, and the stubborn messages interspersed that he doesn’t intend to change his plans, but he wants to talk about it with Alex.

Alex thinks about the next few months without Michael. He thinks about making it through them without his kisses, without being able to slide his fingers through Michael’s curls, without the chance to sing to him at open mic night. It opens up a pit in his stomach and he can feel himself sliding towards a void, which he knows is boundless grief. Glancing around his room, he thinks that there’s no way he can make it through the summer without Michael.

At the very least, they deserve a real conversation where Alex asks about his plans instead of making wild accusations without knowing everything.

Clutching the phone, he sits up and starts typing a message. It’s far from easy and he knows he has to send this in one go, so he ends up intensely focused on the wording. He’s hunched over, rewriting his words five times, ten times, and then another ten on top of that. He’s so engrossed in writing and rewriting the message that he doesn’t hear his father until it’s too late. 

Now, worse than ever before, it’s too late. 

“…Alex, I’ve been calling for you for five minutes.” Jesse steps inside, staring at Alex like he’s a puzzle that needs solving. “Why are you so distracted that you aren’t answering?” His gaze slides to the phone and that’s when sheer panic slams into Alex, because Jesse is walking towards him to take it from him.

“No,” he begs, holding it tighter to his chest. “No, you can’t, it’s mine, you…”

The thing that Alex always forgets is that under Jesse Manes’ roof, he has no control and he has no say. His father takes the phone and looks at the message that he’s been typing. Alex can tell when his father reaches the end of it, because while Alex might not have been ready to send it, he knows what it says. It talks about how much Alex feels for Michael, and how the only reason he'd said any of what he had was because he knows how incredibly brilliant Michael is, on top of being so handsome, and such a great kisser. He knows that at the very bottom of the message, he’d typed the words, ‘I might be falling in love with you’. 

Now, his father is reading those words.

Calmly, Jesse deletes the message, making sure that Alex can see him do that. 

“I thought we’d discussed this.”

He places the phone back in Alex’s palm, which should be a generous gesture, but it’s not. It’s so Alex can see all his words erased, to see how easily Jesse can undo it. Alex closes his eyes and guards his phone, putting it in his back pocket because he’ll get a chance later, he will, he’ll…

“I guess you need to learn another lesson,” says Jesse, grabbing Alex by the shoulder. 

He loses time. He always loses time when this happens. 

He feels the slam against the door, he registers the pain, but the sound of sobbing sounds far away, like he’s suddenly disassociated from his body and is watching this from far away. Maybe it’s because it’s the only way he knows how to survive. What his father does to him to teach him a lesson could go on forever or it could be five minutes, but Alex can’t register it because he disconnects when his face hits the wall and he hears the sound of something small cracking, when the vision in one of his eyes becomes more narrowed. 

The last thing he registers before Alex comes back to his own body is what makes him snap out of it. “…that mother of his isn’t always around, it would be a shame if he found himself in a bad position.”

The roar of rage inside Alex’s head is deafening. He’s never fought back before, not when it’s his own body and life at risk, but for his father to threaten Michael is the last step.

Alex has three older brothers. Over the years of roughhousing, he’s picked up enough that he knows how to fight dirty. When Jesse gets his hands on him again (probably to march him down to the basement, so Alex can sit in the dark and think about what he’s done), Alex reacts, slamming his elbow backwards into Jesse’s solar plexus, darting away from him as soon as he’s free.

He stumbles down the stairs, tripping over the last few, sending him sprawling at the bottom. 

“Alex!” His father’s booming voice gets him on his feet, knowing that he’s coming and his punishment after this will be far worse. 

Alex staggers out of the house and his father stalks out to the front porch to follow. The blood from his nose drips on the pavement as Alex keeps moving towards the people he sees across the street, walking their dog. He knows, in his bones, what he needs to do.

_Get over there, as fast as he can._

In the privacy of the Manes residence, under Jesse’s roof, anything goes. That doesn’t happen when there are witnesses. Alex makes it across the street, where the strangers clearly want no part in the Manes drama, as they pick up the pace and don’t even ask Alex if he’s all right. From here, though, he has distance and lights are starting to go on from their neighbors’ houses.

If Jesse wants to get Alex back under his roof, he’s doing it with witnesses.

While Alex’s vision might be impaired, he can still see the moment his father gives up on him, storming back inside with a slam of the front door. Alex sways a little, standing there and watching his blood on the sidewalk grow from a single drop into a small pool. 

He makes a decision, staring at the Rorschach design he’s creating from his own aches and pains. Now that his father is back inside, Alex has time to do something different. Before Michael, he would have waited it out in that dark basement and apologized to his father to create another détente, but it’s different, now. 

He’d threatened Michael. There’s no coming back from that. 

Alex slowly sits himself down under a tree, hissing for the aches he’s newly discovering, and waits for an hour to pass. He needs to make sure Jesse has calmed down and won’t come back for him. When it’s past midnight and it seems like the coast is clear, Alex sneaks into the toolshed and grabs the few pieces of clothes that are lying around, his backpack from where he’d dropped it after school, and his guitar. The rest, he can live without, so long as he gets to live.

He walks away, back to his childhood home, with nothing more than a backpack and a guitar. Every step he takes leads him to a place he knows he’ll be welcome. 

Today is the last day he stays under Jesse Manes’ roof and his reign. He needs to get that control back. Pocketing his phone after he checks the time, he keeps walking, slow going though it may be. He knows that he could go to Liz or Maria, but there’s only one place he truly _wants_ to be, even if he’s not sure if that door will be open to him.

Alex takes the first steps in the opposite direction of Jesse, and while he might be bruised and battered, it’s also the _best_ he’s ever felt, knowing that he’s free.

* * *

Michael hasn’t left his room in three days. 

If he’s not going to college, what does it matter if he goes to class? Besides, the very thought of having to drag himself to class and see Alex without knowing how they’re going to work it out is _impossible_. He’s been trying to figure out something he can do to fill his time and make it so that Alex doesn’t see him as wasting his life, but he only ever gets so far.

He’ll fill out half of an application for an internship or a patent, then he’ll remember the Air Force, Jesse Manes, and how at the end of the summer, Alex is going to fly off anyway. 

What’s the point in not wasting the next two years if Alex won’t even be around? 

His mother had hidden the bottles of acetone around the house, worried at how much he’s been drinking over the last few days. Little does she know that Michael has a stash that he’s been brewing in the garage. When he’s sure that she’s asleep, he sneaks out to the garage to find it, though it’s definitely not as full as he wants it to be. He’ll still take slightly numb over feeling this awful pit in his stomach any day. 

Michael fills up his flask, leaning against the garage as he drinks. If he brings it inside the house, he knows she’ll smell it. That’s also why, when he’s done with the flask, he digs out mints from a container and aggressively chews a few, sliding them back in his pocket. He’s not feeling _great_ , but he’s better.

He angles his chin to gaze upwards. Even with the light pollution from the streetlights casting their amber light, he can see a few of the brighter stars illuminated in the sky. If he pretends, like a child, he can imagine his father and his cousins and all his peers are up there, going about their lives like normal. 

Michael’s heartache doesn’t change any of that.

He scoffs and tucks the flask back into his pocket, wondering what the point of any of this is, when he sees a figure at the end of the street. It’s shuffling along, slowly, in his direction. Pushing away from the garage, Michael feels his heart sinking when the shadow gets close enough that he recognizes those spikes of hair and the outline of that backpack and the guitar case.

“Alex,” he breathes out, frozen and wondering what’s happened to send him to the Guerin residence in the middle of the night.

Alex stops at the end of their property, on the sidewalk, and the streetlight shows everything.

_Everything_. The bruises on his face, his broken nose, the black eye, and the blood that’s dripped onto Alex’s collar. Michael wants to cry, but he can’t move. Why can’t he move? He needs to get Alex inside, protect him, he needs to do something, but all he can do is stand there with tears in his eyes, because he’s not sure what Alex wants him to do.

“What happened?” Michael asks, feeling the dampness of a tear hitting his collarbone as he blinks. “Alex…”

“Can I, could I, maybe I could stay here tonight?” Alex asks, his words broken up by jagged sounding hiccups, like he’s trying to prevent himself from sobbing. “And maybe a little bit longer than that?”

Michael crosses the front yard in four steps so he can grab Alex and haul him into his arms, his frantic fingers stroking his hair, pulling him in as gently as he can so he doesn’t hurt him. “What happened to you, why did he do this to you…?” He knows who did this, he doesn’t need to ask, but he needs to know why it’s so bad tonight and why Alex came here.

“I’m sorry that I said you were wasting your life without asking what your plans were…”

“Oh my god, don’t you even dare turn this into an apology to me,” Michael pleads, in a panic as he gently lowers the guitar case, then grabs Alex’s backpack off him because it’s preventing him from embracing Alex tightly enough to make it feel like he can melt their bodies together. His breathing is shaken and ragged, but he gets the bag down and grabs Alex. “You’re not going back. I’m not letting you go back to him. That’s my plan, okay?” is his fierce reply.

In that moment, he knows it. He knows exactly what he’s going to do with his life.

He inhales sharply, his nostrils flaring with rage as he thinks about Jesse Manes. “He’s not laying a hand on you ever again, Alex, that’s what I’m gonna do. And if he even tries…”

Alex has grabbed hold of Michael, holding onto him. “Okay,” he says, cutting off the rest of Michael’s rant devoted to retribution. 

Michael isn’t sure how cognizant of the situation Alex is, but he’s going to take that permission and run with it. Alex’s hands look untouched, so he bends down to pick up the backpack and guitar case with one hand, sliding his fingers into Alex’s hand with the other to lead him inside, taking care not to hit any of the creaks on the stairs as he guides Alex up them.

Whatever explanation he’ll need to give to his mother, he wants to worry about that tomorrow. 

He takes Alex upstairs to his bedroom. The backpack is gently placed in the corner of the room, he hooks up Alex’s phone to charge it, and he puts the guitar case against the wall before going to the bathroom to grab warm water in a bowl. 

From the bathroom, he watches Alex settle on Michael’s bed, looking unsure of his place, which needs to stop. Michael grabs a cloth and crosses the room to sit with him, gently dabbing the cloth over the wounds on his face, stopping when Alex hisses.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

Alex reaches for Michael’s hand and guides it back to his face. “It’s going to hurt, no matter who does this,” is his dull response. “Keep going. At least I know you care about me, instead of him sending Flint to do it so the people at school won’t ask questions.”

Michael dips the cloth in the warm water, wrings it out, but he can’t move it back to Alex’s face yet. He’s staring at the way the water has gone pink with his blood, and he needs to hear the truth. 

“Why does your Dad do this to you?”

Alex stares at the covers, looking like he’s shutting down. “I like boys.” His breathing is ragged already from his broken nose, and Michael gently dabs at it, wishing that he’d learned how to heal someone’s pain, if only a little – he can’t do too much, not without Alex figuring out what he is – but he didn’t. 

He spent all his time with his nose in a book.

“I like you,” he adds, “and he found out. The first time he found out about my crush on a boy, he bruised two ribs. I think if I’d ever taken you home to Sunday dinner, he might have actually broken every last one of them.”

Michael squeezes the cloth harder so he doesn’t do something stupid like drop everything and go _murder_ Jesse Manes. Instead, he cleans every last drop of blood from Alex’s face and his neck, reaching for the cool cloth he’d prepared to press to his eye before he sets the bowl of water on the ground and crawls towards Alex to hold him in his arms.

“Do you want to talk about…?” Alex’s words are hushed, as Michael wraps himself around him. “I mean, I still said that you were wasting your life.”

“My life isn’t the one I’m worried about right now,” Michael argues, stroking his hand through Alex’s hair, watching as he starts to shake a little, and that’s not good. “Hey,” he soothes, kissing his temple. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to go back to him. I can hide you here and my Mom, she doesn’t even need to know,” he promises, even though he knows that’s next to impossible. “I’m not letting you go back to him, and Liz won’t, and neither will Maria. We’ll keep you safe, I’ve got you. The rest, we can figure out later.”

He gently starts to rock Alex on the bed, feeling the tangled knot inside his chest loosen when Alex melts into his arms, closing his eyes and going completely still and completely silent.

“I’ve got you. Always.”

It’s only a lull, Michael knows, but he rubs Alex’s back and hopes that he can offer him some comfort until they can figure out exactly what the hell they’re supposed to do now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If nothing else, I can promise that while there still might be some angst to come, this is the worst of it, folks.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't possibly leave Alex hurting that long, could I?

If you had asked Mara when she’d first arrived on Earth, she would have said that once you got used to the planet, nothing could really surprise you – not _truly_.

It's a cool June night when she discovers exactly how wrong she’d been about that. 

She hasn’t been sleeping much the last few days. While she would never tell Michael, his grief and turmoil from his fight with Alex has been bleeding through the house and has left her with a bout of insomnia that’s hard to fight off. It’s left her pacing the halls at night, or getting up at two in the morning to work on her latest projects, whether it be art, food, or communications.

Tonight, she’s just pulled on her satin floral house robe, drawn from her restless sleep by a new layer of panic on top of Michael’s nervous emotions, but there’s something else in there that she recognizes. It’s the desperate desire to help, though it’s tinged with confusion and a lack of knowing, as if he doesn’t know what he’s doing. 

Mara follows the sounds of crying down the hall, tentative because she knows her son’s pain and that isn’t the sound of Michael’s tears or the feeling of his distress through their connection. Knotting the robe shut, she pushes Michael’s door open gently to find an unexpected scene on his bed.

Surprise. 

Michael has his arms wrapped around Alex Manes, who’s sobbing into Michael’s chest, frantically trying to get a hold onto some part of his clothes. His fingers fly from Michael’s shirt to his sweatpants to his hair, and he’s babbling nonsense as he presses in as tightly as he can. Her son keeps rocking him, as gently as he can, while Alex talks about how he can’t go back, how he's ruined everything, how he’ll never be forgiven. 

When he rocks back, the moonlight through the window illuminates the bruising all over his face, the awful discoloration around his eye, and a broken nose. Mara already knows exactly who did this and icy rage fills her veins that any man could do this to his own child. When Michael meets her gaze, there’s a subdued look of resignation on his face, like he’s been expecting her to find them.

“Mom,” Michael says, lifting his head as he strokes Alex’s hair, a panicked look in his eyes. “Sorry, I know it’s past curfew, but …”

“Who did this to you?” 

She already knows, but she needs to hear it. Until Alex is willing to tell them, she can’t do anything about it officially, though Mara has already decided that if Alex isn’t willing to tell them tonight, then she’s going to make a trip to the Manes house and dig into Jesse Manes’ head, rearranging every bit of it until he confesses.

“Mom,” Michael breathes out. 

Alex stares at her fearfully, his attention sliding to Michael like he needs his permission to tell the truth, even though she knows that it’s not Michael’s secret to share. Michael keeps rubbing Alex’s back, staring at him like he’s the only thing in the universe, nodding to encourage him to talk.

“My dad,” Alex gets out, wiping at his cheeks even though he’s not crying anymore. “I was about to send a text to Michael and he stole my phone. He saw what I was typing to him and he went nuts. I was just trying to apologize to Michael, and my Dad, he…”

Mara is glad that she hadn’t met this man when she had first landed on Earth, or it might have shaped her opinions about the humans in a very dark, dismal way. 

“He shoved me into the wall,” Alex narrates, his voice growing numb as he speaks, as though he’s trying to willfully shut down his emotions. “He pushed my face into the wall so hard that my nose broke. He pushed me against the door, and then he told me that if I kept going down this road, that Michael might find himself in a similar situation.”

Mara stills at the threat to her own boy. 

That’s when she makes her decision. It’s a decision for Alex and for Michael, but given the circumstances, she’s the adult and they’re both still children. Mara refuses to let either of them suffer under Jesse Manes’ hand. 

“Shh,” she says, and settles on the bed on the other side of the boys. She strokes her hand through Alex’s hair and locks eyes with Michael, communicating her intent with him through the bond. “You don’t have to tell me anything more. We won’t let him hurt you. We’ll make everything better.”

She won’t proceed unless she has his permission and she waits as Michael processes her intent with shock and disbelief. They’re both taking an immensely large risk in doing this, but the alternative is to allow Alex to lie here bearing wounds from his father because of the simple fact that Alex loves her son.

She might value their secrecy and their privacy, but she trusts Alex Manes. 

Michael’s mouth is still open, catching flies, but he eventually nods rapidly to give her the permission she’s after. While Mara knows that healing will make her feel ill and isn’t one of her usual powers, she wants nothing more than to help Alex in this moment for his bravery and his determination to escape his father. She slides her fingers into his hair so that the handprint won’t show on his skin, splaying her fingers until she’s cupping his head. 

The bruises on his face slowly unmake themselves until it’s like they had never been there at all. His nose shifts and the broken piece slides back into place, his eye opening up until it’s no longer swollen, no longer purple. She holds on as long as she can, stroking his hair with a last maternal stroke before she slides her hand away and takes his chin in hand to study him.

“I think that’s all better,” Mara assesses, taking the bottle of acetone that Michael hands her in a hurry. She knows she’s listing slightly, that she might need to run for the bathroom to be sick, but she finishes the whole bottle in a single go – something she hasn’t done since her younger years – and watches Alex for his reaction as she fights not to be ill.

He’s stopped shaking, but now he sits on the bed, frozen and touching his face repeatedly, like he can’t quite believe it. 

She extracts herself from the bed, but she needs Alex to rest after the night he’s had.

“Yeah,” is all Michael says, hoarsely, because he already knows what she needs to do next.

Mara leans in and brushes her hand over Alex’s hair, a mother’s touch, and when she leans down to press a kiss to his temple, Alex collapses in Michael’s arms like a raggedy doll who’s been sent to sleep. He won’t dream tonight and he’ll sleep until his body is done repairing itself. Michael shifts to make room for Alex in his lap, sitting with his back to the headboard, giving her a grateful look.

“He’ll keep our secret,” he insists. “We can’t let him go back.”

“I had no intention of letting that happen,” Mara guarantees, wanting to cut off Michael’s panic before he can wander down that path of worse case scenarios. “Are you sure we can trust him? His whole family is military.” She’s not doubting him, but she needs to know that Michael truly believes in him.

Michael’s scoff is filled with disgust. “You’ve seen what his military family does to him.” He slides his fingers through Alex’s hair, and Mara can feel the tenderness through the connection she’s made with Alex, even though he’s deeply asleep. “He needs people to protect him.”

“Maria and Liz could do that.”

“No,” Michael says firmly. “We’re going to have to tell him what we are.” There’s guilt flashing over Michael’s face. “I trust him, but I don’t want him to hate me,” he says, his voice small. “If we tell him and then send him away, he might come up with all sorts of wrong ideas and I don’t, I can’t…” He scrunches up his nose, like he’s trying to find the right words. “We have the guest room. He can stay there, right? Please, Mom.”

She sighs and knows that she should take this matter back to Jim Valenti. She should go talk to Arturo or Mimi and see what they can do, but Michael’s not wrong.

Their next steps need to be taken very cautiously, especially if they don’t plan to wipe Alex’s memory and she gets the feeling that Michael will never forgive her if she does. 

“There will be rules,” she warns.

“I know,” Michael agrees, but he’s not looking at her, occupied with his fingers in Alex’s hair.

“Michael,” she says, firmer this time, and reaches out to lift his chin. “He might not react well to the truth.”

Michael gives her a shaky nod, that look of worry on his face heartbreaking. She’d do anything to protect her boy, but he’s taking the risk of telling Alex the truth and she’s proud of him. Unfortunately, she can’t fix that if it goes wrong.

“I know,” he says again, but this time, his voice breaks on the second word. 

Mara sighs and leans forward to brush a kiss to the top of Michael’s head, touching his curls and yearning for the days when her biggest problem was watching him, Max, and Isobel get into trouble with the royal minders when they decided to let them loose on the grounds of their properties. He’s grown up too fast, and managed to get himself in one hell of a pickle. 

She tightens her robe and heads down the hall to begin moving her things to the garage. She strips the bed in the guest room and puts on new sheets, then settles Alex’s guitar on the desk (after sneaking back into the room to get it and finding Michael half-collapsed over Alex, snoring and asleep on top of him). 

His school books are placed on the empty bookshelf, she folds his clothes and sets them up in the dresser, and as a last touch, she finds several of her vinyl record finds along with the record player and hooks it up in the room. By the time she finishes with that, the sun is starting to creep over the horizon and her stomach is rumbling with hunger.

Mara heads downstairs to put on the kettle, though she doesn’t even think about beginning to make food until it’s nearly mid-day, knowing that Alex had plenty of sleep to catch up on. When she begins to hear movement upstairs, she sets an extra place at the table, knowing that the green and yellow placemat won’t move unless Alex decides it should. She makes more eggs than any of them could possibly ever eat -- after last night, she’s not sure how much of an appetite either Michael or Alex will have. 

She’s finished two mugs of tea before she hears footsteps and given the night that they all had, she’s not surprised that it’s taken them this long to come downstairs. 

Sitting at the table, Mara puts aside her book and watches them. Michael’s lingering two stairs behind Alex. She knows they’re both giving him the space he needs, but Alex looks wary and shell-shocked as he sits down at the table. He accepts the plate that Mara hands him, eating in complete silence. 

She can tell that he’s not sure what he wants to say, but he wants to say something. He keeps looking up and opening his mouth, but shoving his fork in to fill it with food. 

He does this again, then again, then one last time before he speaks.

“You healed me last night,” Alex says. “I tried to write it off as trauma or a dream, but when I woke up, there wasn’t a trace of a bruise. How?” he demands, not sounding like he’s going to jump to conclusions or accuse them of anything, but Mara also knows he can’t be far off. He looks to Michael, pleading with him. “Please, help me understand.”

“We’re going to tell you the truth, but you can’t tell anyone, Alex,” Michael warns, taking the chair beside him. “Not Maria, not Liz, not anyone,” he says. “If you’re still okay with that, then we’ll tell you the truth.” 

Alex opens his mouth to answer, but Michael isn’t done.

“Alex, seriously…”

“Michael,” Alex retorts, his tone curt. “Would you let me answer?” He’s put his fork down and is touching his nose, but also sliding his hand through his hair, brushing up against Mara’s handprint, which means he must have discovered the connection. “Of course I’ll keep your secret.”

He looks to Mara, as though sensing she’ll have the explanation. 

“You touched me last night and every bruise, every wound, everything vanished. Are you some kind of faith healer?” He doesn’t sound like he believes himself.

Mara suspects that when he hears the truth, it will be even harder to swallow.

“I’ve never needed faith to get by.” Mara looks at Michael, then at her empty mug of tea. “Michael, sweetheart, will you pour me another cup of tea?” she requests politely, sliding it right into Alex’s vision as she gives Michael a nod.

Luckily, he understands completely.

The kettle floats into Alex’s vision and tips over to fill Mara’s cup with hot water, a bag of green tea dropping in next. Considering she healed his bruises last night, Alex’s wide-eyed shock is actually a bit amusing. 

“Wh-what…?”

“It’s kind of funny,” Michael admits, settling the kettle and the tea back on the stovetop with his mind. “I’ve got all these brains, but Mom’s powers are way more mentally-focused and I’ve got the telekinesis down pat.” His tone is casual, though she knows he’s putting on an air of nonchalance to try and protect his heart. “I guess you can’t pick and choose what powers you get, but considering we get any at all, I’d say being an alien doesn’t suck.”

Mara watches Alex carefully to see how the news sinks in. 

“Alien.”

“You and I are connected right now,” Mara says, gesturing to his head. “Last night, I healed you of your wounds, so for the next few days, you’ll be able to feel anything that I will. Luckily, I think we’re both fairly fond of Michael, so that shouldn’t be new to you.”

She hides her smile in her tea when she manages to make _both_ boys blush at that.

“You’re both aliens,” Alex says again. He’s clearly trying to work out the puzzle. He points to the front yard. “That’s not a sculpture, is it?”

“Remember when everyone kept asking where I’m from…?” Michael trails off and points skywards. “I landed last summer, came to stay with Mom,” he says, and wraps his arms around her for a sideways hug before he grabs a plate of food to dig in. “You get why you can’t tell anyone, right? Our people have been living on earth secretly since ’47, but if anyone found out, I’m pretty sure they’d get right to the snip-snip, cut-cut.”

Poor Alex looks pale, but he nods.

“Yeah, I get it,” he agrees, poking at his food at a more sedate pace than before. 

Well, then. He might not be taking the news completely perfectly, but he’s still processing it and for the first time since she’s landed on Earth, a human knows their secret. She certainly wasn’t expecting this when she woke up yesterday morning, but she knows that if it protects Alex from that awful home, then it will be worth it.

“I’ve moved my things to the garage,” she says, when she’s finished making her cup of tea. “Alex, the spare room is yours. You don’t have to go back to him, if you don’t want to.”

“We’ll be your alien guard dogs,” Michael quips.

She rolls her eyes, but he’s not so far off from the truth.

“We’ll understand if you want to go stay somewhere else, in case you’re not comfortable knowing our truth,” she says, with a pointed look at Michael that he needs to be okay with that, as well. As much as Michael looks like he’s going to protest, he doesn’t. “I know that Michael would never let anything happen to you.”

Here’s the other important part.

“Neither will I,” she vows. “We’ll still both understand if you want to be somewhere else.”

She absently lets her hand rest on the back of Alex’s head and closes her eyes to project safety and affection and protection through the bond. Mara watches as the tension bleeds from Alex’s shoulders and he leans over his breakfast to finish eating. 

“Thanks,” Alex says, glancing from Mara to Michael. “Thank you. I know you didn’t have to heal me, that you could have left it alone, so thank you. I think, since it’s okay with you, that I’ll stick around for a little while.”

She’s not sure she ever would have imagined their potential new living arrangements, if you’d asked her months ago, but at the same time, she’s also never felt so right about a snap decision that she’s made. Mara gives Michael a reassuring smile as she sips her tea, knowing that while she can feel a small degree of worry through her bond with Alex, she also feels something far more overpowering.

It’s the warmth of a boy who’s finally feeling safe, for maybe the first time in almost a decade.

She is not letting that boy go _anywhere_ without a fight.

* * *

Two nights later, Michael wakes up to a shadow standing in his doorway. Rubbing his eyes, he squints and lets the figure come into focus. “Alex?” he mumbles. 

“I couldn’t sleep.” Alex doesn’t step inside Michael’s bedroom, holding on to the doorframe and swaying, just a little, like he’s nervous about what he wants to do. “New bedroom, different lighting, just found out my boyfriend’s an alien,” he makes his excuses, but Michael suspects that he still keeps waking up fearing that Jesse will be there. “Could I stay here tonight?”

If his mother finds out, he’s going to be in so much trouble, but Michael isn’t sure there’s a world where he can say no to Alex.

Besides, they kind of keep putting off a talk.

He lifts up his covers and shifts to the side as Alex climbs in with him. Michael slides him into his arms, knowing that anything Alex is feeling will go right back to his mother, so he probably shouldn’t do anything too sexy. He bites back that comment, though, pretty sure Alex wouldn’t laugh at the joke.

“How are you doing?” Michael asks, given that they have other things to talk about than Michael asking if he can kiss Alex.

“Well,” Alex says, his voice even. “My father made me bleed more than he ever has in his life, and then my boyfriends’ mother healed me with her alien powers, right before she and my boyfriend told me that they come from space. I never even asked, what part?”

“It’s a planet called Antar, and it’s roughly three months to get there,” Michael replies. Even though Alex seems like he wants to know about all of this, he’s being cautious. He doesn’t want to send him running, especially now that he knows the truth. 

“Are you physically different in any way?” Alex asks, wiggling his fingers to his head. “Other than the whole X-Men thing?”

Michael stares blankly at Alex.

“The what…?”

“Oh my god,” Alex breathes out. “You’re not serious, are you? I’ve known you almost a year, you’re telling me you don’t know who the X-Men are?”

Michael hesitates, mouth open, and Alex’s eyes widen even more. “I may or may not tune you out when you start going off about those movies?” he offers, because he knows that’s not the right thing to do, but it’s not his fault that his brain latches onto Alex’s voice and he lets it soothe him as he zones out.

“Okay, well, I know what our next date is.”

Michael feels the butterflies in his stomach take flight. “We’re still dating?”

“Of course we are,” Alex replies, but Michael feels indebted to some shock. They’d fought and then Alex had found out that he’s an alien. He wouldn’t blame him if he’d decided to keep his distance, but here he is in Michael’s arms and talking about their next date. “It’s a lot to process, it really is,” he admits, “but now that I know you’re an alien, I guess it gives a little more context about why you’re not going to college.” He gives Michael a disbelieving look. “You literally came from the stars.” His eyes slide over Michael’s face as he shifts, tangling their legs up together as he presses a hand to Michael’s chest.

Michael’s heart is pounding under Alex’s hands. They’ve never been so close for so long, but he’s not sure that he could convince himself to let him go.

When Alex opens his mouth again, he’s singing, low and teasing. “There’s a starman waiting in the sky,” he starts, barely more than a whisper. “He’s told us not to blow it…”

Michael laughs, recognizing the tune. “Cause he knows it’s all worthwhile,” he finishes, speaking the lyrics.

Alex tangles their fingers up together as he curls in with him. “You’re not going to invade Earth? You’re not going to round up all the earthlings and perform weird experiments on us?”

Michael’s face contorts with the wild disbelief that Alex could even think that. “What? No,” he says, horrified at the idea. “I know those types of movies are pretty popular, but we’re not like that. We’ve been living in plain sight for decades and we just want to _be_.” His gaze flicks down to Alex’s lips. “I just want to be, with you.” 

He presses his forehead to Alex’s, closing his eyes, knowing that he needs to be as honest as he can, even if it puts him and his mother at risk. 

“From what I understand, we’re pretty physically similar, biologically. Our components are different. I’m not sure what the element is called exactly, I’m not a biomedical engineer, but I know the makeup of our organs differ from yours.” He takes Alex’s hand and rests it over his heart. “I mean, I don’t know what it’s made up of, exactly, but it does what it’s supposed to. Beats, pumps blood, falls for earth boys…”

Alex shifts back, just enough to look at Michael. That awe and wonder on his face is _beautiful_ , but as he curls in with Michael, what he says next is even better. “I think I’m gonna stay here with you and your Mom. I know you won’t let anything happen to me, but who’s going to make sure nothing happens to you?”

Michael laughs softly. “My hero.”

“Damn right,” Alex agrees, and lets out a slow breath as he curls in with him. 

The conversation fades from there. Every once in a while, one of them will start a new topic, but Michael doesn’t really care what they talk about. He knows everything he needs to know to feel content and secure. Alex isn’t going anywhere, he knows his secret and isn’t scared of him, and he still wants to date Michael. The relief that pumps through him is practically a sleeping pill that peels away the tension, leaving him a boneless, blissful mess in Alex’s arms. 

That’s how they stay until the early hours of the morning. 

Michael might not be totally cognizant, but he and Alex are both still somewhat awake when he sees his open door being gently nudged open just a touch further, his mother watching them from the hall. His hand stills on Alex’s back, but he doesn’t open his eyes and he lets Alex keep talking to him, telling himself that he’s not breaking any rules.

Maybe. Possibly. 

He’s not sure his mother thought she’d need to put rules in place about this when she’d written the book. Still, as he finally closes his eyes and lets himself relax, he tells himself that it’s a tomorrow problem.

He wishes his future self the good luck he’ll probably need and lets himself fall asleep with Alex in his arms.

* * *

She hasn’t been sleeping well since Alex turned up at their door. Maybe it’s paranoia that Jesse Manes won’t leave it alone, maybe she’s just worried that this will turn a spotlight on them, or maybe for the first time, she’s worrying about her secret being out there.

Whatever the cause, she’s not sleeping, which means she tends to wander the house in the early hours of the morning.

She’s just finished up with a project when she stops by the guest room, gently nudging the door open to see if Alex is resting, but he’s not there. The bedsheets are disheveled, but Alex is missing. Mara takes a few more steps down the hallway and pauses at Michael’s open bedroom door. It’s only slightly open, but that’s all she needs to see Alex half on top of her son, his palm stroking circles up and down his chest, mumbling to him. She can’t hear what he’s saying, but it’s enough to make Michael snort with laughter, a reverent peace washing over him that she’s never felt before accompanied with bursts of love.

Well, then.

He’s almost eighteen. He can make his own decisions.

It also means that she can convert the spare bedroom back into her workshop, once she lays down some rules. 

She heads to the garage to fire up the relay back to Antar. It happens rarely because of how much energy it takes, but given that she hasn’t called home in a while and things have been quite stressful, she could use a conversation with someone from home. Right now, given that she wants to discuss Michael, he’s the last person she can turn to.

The relay connects and the visuals kick in, showing her husband in the middle of dismissing his briefing, his eyes sliding to her as he raises a hand to tell her to hold on.

“We’ll talk in an hour,” he says to his associate before turning his attention fully to the relay. She looks over him fondly, watching as he runs his hair through his dark curls, his hazel eyes sparkling with affection. No matter how much they might disagree, she’s never been disappointed in how striking he looks. “Mara,” he greets with a loving smile. “How long will this connection last?”

“Nineteen more minutes. I wasn’t scheduled for a call, so we’ll have to make do with the power we have.”

“Is everything all right?” he asks with concern.

“There’s no imminent danger, Rath, stay calm,” Mara insists, before he can call down missiles on earth. “We’ve had an eventful week here and I missed you. I can’t talk to Michael about this, given that it revolves around him.”

“Is he okay?”

Mara smiles, sad and happy all at once. “I think our little boy is in love. No,” she says, shaking her head. “I know he is.” As happy as Mara is for Michael, that happiness has limits. She knows what’s coming, even if Michael is in denial about it. “With a human, no less,” she scoffs, shaking her head. In a little under two years, Michael will be on his way back to Antar and he’ll have his first heartbreak. “He’s staying with us, his father is an abominable example of humanity, but Alex is a good boy.” 

Her son has grown up and fallen in love. She’d always known it would happen one day, but she’s not so sure that she’d been ready for it.

Rath scoffs and shakes his head. “You let him fall for a human?”

Mara gives him an icy look, forgetting at times how they can butt heads when it comes to the sensitive topics. “Are you implying that either of us can control Michael when he gets his mind set on something?” She shakes her head. “Alex is going to be a great man, but I don’t know that Michael will be around when that happens and I don’t know how to talk to him about that.”

“He hasn’t changed his plans?”

Mara shakes her head, not sure that she should be sharing her disappointment in that. If he decides to stay on Earth, the by-product of such a thing means that she gets her son and she won’t have to say goodbye to him again.

Unfortunately, “No, he hasn’t told me that he intends to stay.”

“Good,” Rath says, with a nod. “That’s good. It means his sense of duty is still where it belongs.” 

She ducks her head down, lips pressed together. Sixteen minutes left on the clock and she reminds herself that they’re not going to fight, even though every cell in her body wants to protest that _duty_ isn’t the only thing that’s important in life. Sometimes, a person’s passion needs to be followed and they should listen to their heart and not their head.

Rath has never understood that, though.

Glory be to Antar and its fighting forces.

“I don’t know how much I can trust Alex. I know Michael believes in him and I can sense that he has the best intentions, but Michael won’t always be here. Then what?”

“You know what,” Rath replies, gently. “I know you don’t want to think about it, but you know.”

Mara closes her eyes to try ignoring the fact that she does, but she’d been hoping to be talked out of it. If Michael leaves the planet and Alex reacts badly, then she will have to go into his mind and make sure that he forgets those dangerous things that could put her and the other Antarians on earth at risk.

She won’t want to, but she will. 

It’s her _duty_ , after all.

“Are you going to get a chance to visit?” she asks. “Maybe you could meet Alex, assess him and make your own assessment.”

Rath looks distracted already, which means that Mara suspects that there’s new business to attend to. So much for an hour. So much for them having thirteen minutes left on their connection. She takes in a deep breath and presses her hand over her heart, willing him to do the same, even though she knows from this distance, neither of them will feel the connection.

“Sorry, sweetheart, you know how busy it gets and…”

“I know,” she promises. “I know, of course.”

He splays his hand over his heart. “I will try and visit. I can’t promise.”

“We never do,” Mara agrees sadly. 

“Tell Michael that he has my love and that I know he’ll make the right decisions. I know you will, too,” is what he says before he signs off, walking away and leaving the connection up. For minutes, Mara stares at Rath’s office in silence, feeling the weight of his absence as much as ever.

She takes her time dismantling the relay, winding the cords back up, and when she’s done Mara sinks onto some of the crates in the garage, sitting there and wondering if she could really do something to Alex that would cause Michael to hate her, in order to protect their kind. 

She tucks that thought away, because the important thing right now is to keep Alex safe. There’s two years before Michael leaves and she’s not sure that he’s told Alex that he’s going yet. She has two years and right now, her duty is to her boy and to Alex. 

The rest? Well, she’ll deal with that later, won’t she?


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Moderngenius94 for the beta for this chapter!

When Michael comes down to breakfast the next morning, he’s not sure what he’s expecting.

True, there could be a lecture. It’s not like he and Alex were caught fucking, even though Michael has definitely been having those fantasies. He knows his mother isn’t going to toss Alex out, but he’s still worried about her being too strict with him, especially after what he’s gone through. The last thing Michael wants Alex to do is run away, and he’s not sure a heavy hand from his mother would help. Then again, he also knows his mother isn’t the kind of woman who’s all about strict obedience. 

It’s why he laughs when he comes downstairs, with Alex behind him, and sees his mother’s rule notebook out. It looks like his Mom has clearly decided that it’s time for Alex to get _the speech_. 

“My house, my rules,” she says.

Alex glances to Michael worriedly, but Michael reaches down to squeeze his hand. He has to hide his smile behind his hand, because he doubts that they’re going to be exactly the same as they were when he landed, but Alex looks like he needs a little support. He gives Alex’s hand one last pat and heads to the coffee maker to brew up a new pot, even though Alex looks like he’s been abandoned and left adrift.

He should tell him that it’s not going to be that bad, but Alex will figure that out soon enough.

“We’re both very glad you’re going to stay,” his mother says, and given that no one has verbally said that to her, she must have picked that off either his or Alex’s connection with her, “but I’d like to make sure we’re all on the same page.

Alex is still standing there, frozen, looking half like he’s about to salute her.

The rage that fills Michael when he understands _why_ he’s so tense is almost surprising with how much it blinds him. Luckily, his mother is probably the furthest thing from Jesse that exists, so he knows that it’s only a matter of minutes before Alex gets that too. 

“What do you want to do, Alex?”

He looks stunned, caught off guard. His panicked look at Michael makes sense, because he doubts that anyone has ever asked him that question, at least not an adult who actually had an invested interest in his life. 

“Uh, I…” Alex stammers. He’s still fumbling as Michael presses a mug of black coffee into his palms, giving him a light nudge to sit down. He can still have his panic attack, but Michael would rather he get comfortable. He keeps looking to Michael, which is kind of sweet, but even though Michael knows the answer, he knows his mother wants to hear it. 

“Tell her,” he encourages.

“I want to make music.” It’s only five words, but Alex manages to rush them all together like they’re one, burying his face in the coffee mug after as if he’s embarrassed to say it. Michael is so proud that he’s said it and even his Mom looks impressed. Michael knows that it’s not some pipe dream and that Alex is so _good_ that if he had the right connections, he could definitely put that talent to use.

She nods as she sips her tea. “All right, then. Rule number one is that you need to get a job. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to, but if you’re going to be staying with us for the undetermined future, I want to make sure you’re keeping busy and that you’re pursuing your dream.” She’s already scribbling in her notebook, barely looking up, which means she isn’t seeing the look of abject shock on Alex’s face.

Michael huffs out a soft laugh, giving him a light nudge. “She was never gonna send you off to your Dad’s war,” he whispers.

“Next time I go to Santa Fe to meet up with the other Antarians, you’ll come with,” his mother says firmly. “I’ll introduce you to some of the group up there, see if you can network and make some connections. Until then, you’ll keep working part-time while you pursue your dream.”

Alex looks like he’s about to cry, which makes Michael worried that they did something wrong.

He’s ready to open his mouth and tell his mom to stop when Alex puts his coffee down, gets up, and immediately wraps his arms around Michael’s mom, hugging her as tightly as Michael has ever seen a person embrace someone else. He’s not sure _why_ , given that his mother just told Alex to get a job, but he can overhear Alex whispering ‘thank you’ about a dozen times before he backs away, wiping at his cheeks.

Alex looks embarrassed about the tears, so Michael doesn’t ask. He’s still not sure what just happened, either. 

His mother doesn’t acknowledge it, either. She just taps her pen against the notebook. “Rule two is that even though you’re staying here, you’re not hiding out here,” she says, as gently as she can. “You’re still going to go out into Roswell, whether it’s to help out with errands for the house or to see your friends. This may be a safe place, but it’s not to be a fortress to keep you in. Understood?”

Alex nods rapidly, even if he looks a little less sure about that one. 

“If your father is on your case, if you find your family is giving you trouble, tell us.” His mother’s gaze is sharp, that flare of sharp insight gleaming. “I’ve already had coffee with Jim Valenti to let him know the situation. He’d prefer that there are official papers, but he also agreed to have words with Jesse if they push you too much.”

Michael’s glad for that, because if they didn’t have the humans doing something about it, he might need to exercise some of his more dormant powers and fuck with Alex’s family to make sure they leave him alone. 

“Rule number three is that you need to hug her,” Michael informs Alex to try and lighten the mood. “Again,” he jokes, seeing as Alex had been quick to embrace her before. 

His mother shrugs, like she’s been caught out, but Alex’s watery laugh and quick hug shows that he clearly has no problem with it. When he pulls back, he heads to Michael to hug him too, even though that definitely hadn’t been one of the rules. Michael is so far from arguing, though, rubbing a hand over Alex’s back as he tips his head to press a kiss to his jaw.

Alex exhales shakily, but before Michael can do anything else about it, his mother clears her throat pointedly. 

“Rule number four,” she says, and her look makes Michael take a step back. “I know you two are dating and you’re going to be staying in the same room. I understand that it helps you to sleep,” she says, gently, to Alex. “You’re still both seventeen,” she says. “I want you to keep the door open a few inches at all times when you’re here and when you are ready to take that next step, I just want you to think about it and then be honest with yourselves and me. I’ll leave the house if you tell me that you’ve thought about it and are ready.”

Michael is beyond happy that she’s being so gentle about this. He’s fairly sure that in the state Alex is in, any hint of strict rules might set him off.

“I think I just need to settle in for a while,” he admits, giving Michael an apologetic look that he instantly brushes off. Though he knows the fantasies won’t go away and he’ll have some interesting shower time, it feels crass to expect Alex to want to fall into bed with him right after he left his house and his family. 

“Take all the time you need. Once we graduate, we can go look for jobs,” Michael says with a beaming smile, even though he feels like a liar. “The rest can come in time or never. We don’t have to rush.”

_Liar_ , he hears in his head, because no matter what they do and no matter what job he gets, none of it is forever.

It’s just a stop-gap until he heads back home.

“That’s all the big rules,” his mother says, closing her notebook. “We’ll go grocery shopping today and you can help me move your things into Michael’s room. Michael will help get the spare room back to being a workshop space.” She stands, pressing a kiss to Michael’s temple, squeezing Alex’s shoulder. “Welcome to your new home, Alex.” 

From the dazed look on Alex’s face, Michael can tell that although he had no real plans to move in, he’s not complaining.

“Thank you,” he exhales. “Both of you, this is more than anyone has ever done for me and…”

“Alex,” Michael cuts him off, because the idea that they’re going above and beyond is insane. “We should have done this for you a long time ago.” As far as he’s concerned, that’s where this conversation ends. “Come on. Let’s get your stuff ready for errands, or you’re gonna be eating Mom’s vegetarian food all the time if you don’t let her know what you want.”

He heads off to get the reusable bags, but while his mother’s back is turned and when Alex is least expecting it, Michael ducks in for a victorious kiss, feeling like he finally got one over on Jesse Manes.

Keeping Alex here every day is the best ‘fuck you’ to Jesse Manes that Michael can dream up, and he’s going to do everything in his power to keep him there.

* * *

True to his promise, Alex helps Mara move the last of her things back into the spare room. It’s a long process, mainly because Alex takes the opportunity to ask about every invention and piece of machinery. It feels odd, because for a brief blink of time, this room had been his and he’s already giving it away. Still, given the option to stay here or spend his time in Michael’s room, he’d choose the latter any day. 

Michael helps keep the nightmares at bay. Whether he’s doing it unconsciously with his alien powers or it’s just _him_ , it means that Alex doesn’t have as many shitty nights. 

Once the move is done, he has to focus on Mara’s other rules, and Alex isn’t about to coast on their free hospitality for very long. He goes on the weekend trip to Santa Fe to meet a couple of recording studio people. He takes the tours, learns about the process, and he has a lot to think about by the time they’re heading back.

“I may not know you that well,” Mara says as she rolls the windows down a little to let some breeze in, turning down the radio, “but I recognize a thoughtful look anywhere. What’d you think?”

“Everyone was really nice,” Alex says, because they had been. He’s not sure if Mara pulled any strings to make it happen, but no one had treated Alex like an idiot who had no idea what he’s getting into. “I guess I was thinking about some of the things they said when it comes to recording and performing. I’m not sure that I’m in a place where I’d feel comfortable on stage with tons of people staring at me.”

“You are only seventeen,” Mara points out. “You know you don’t have to have your whole life planned out right now.” She sounds sad and almost wistful to say it, almost like she’d never got the chance.

Alex is still trying to navigate this whole situation, but he thinks asking if that’s because of the alien thing is a bit rude, so he doesn’t. 

Instead, he lets the subject stay on him. “I still want to pursue music,” he insists. “I have an interview at the record store in Roswell,” he says proudly. 

“Alex, that’s wonderful,” Mara congratulates him. “I take it that means no more shifts at the UFO Emporium?”

“It feels really weird working there, when my boyfriend and his Mom are…you know…” Alex hopes that his cheeks don’t look as red as they feel. The whole UFO Emporium had been a decent gig, but he feels weird going in now and seeing all the fake autopsy shit and all the other conspiracy theories that might have some shred of truth. “I’d rather pursue my dream.”

“We want that, too,” she agrees. “So, if you’re not ready for the performing side, what are we thinking?”

Sometimes, Alex wonders if Michael knows how lucky he is. His own mother had taken off and left him in Jesse’s hands. It had been a childhood that had a smear of violence and fear over everything, blotting out any good memories with the shadow of something bad that had either just ended or was to come. With Mara, she always includes Alex in the conversation. She wants him to have a say in his own life.

It's _incredible_.

“I kind of can’t stop thinking about that thing they said,” Alex raves excitedly, tightening his grip on his bag. He’d wanted to go right to working on his music, but he doesn’t want to do that and make Mara do the drive all alone. “I don’t have to be the one to perform to have my music be out there. I could write songs in Roswell and sell them to people. I’d get an agent, but then be more of an author.”

He doesn’t say it, but he’s been thinking it – being on stage and potentially getting attention brings that eye on Michael and his mother. It’s not that he worries about them being found out, because they blend in _really_ well, but who knows what might be lurking out there? 

If he writes songs for other people, then he can hear his music and that doesn’t have to happen.

“If it makes you happy,” Mara says, “then I think it’s a great idea.”

It’s almost like emotional whiplash for Alex. He’s gone from a house that didn’t value his happiness at all to one where it’s their chief concern. He’s happy and grateful for it, he’s just not sure how to live with it like it’s not going to be taken away. 

Still, he plans to take advantage of it as much as he can. 

Three days later, Alex comes home with a new full-time job and bursting with ideas, which is why he ignores lunch and heads right up to the bedroom to get his guitar out, along with blank music sheets to start getting his original songs going. He’s in the middle of working on the chorus of a song when he sees Michael slide into the doorway of the room. His jeans are greasy again and he’s got an oil stain on his cheek, which makes Alex roll his eyes. “You’re filthy,” he accuses.

“Been working in the garage,” he replies with a shrug, ducking to look at himself in the mirror so he can rub away the mark on his cheek, even if he doesn’t really do much other than smudge it. “I heard you were downtown today.”

“Yeah,” Alex agrees, setting the guitar aside as he leans back on the bed, eyes intently following Michael around the room as he watches him strip. His heart is pounding, because as much as they’ve been living together, there are still boundary lines up.

He still hasn’t seen Michael fully naked, though there have been some mornings when he catches him in only the low-slung towel, still dripping from his shower. Now, Michael ducks behind the privacy screen that Mara had found during the Santa Fe trip, slinging his clothes over it before he steps back out, grabbing a hand towel to rub over his face. Alex tries not to think about Michael behind the screen without any clothes on, that long and lean line of his body ready to be touched.

Alex breathes out slowly and reminds himself of all the things he thinks about to keep from getting hard – his father, mainly – and even that doesn’t do much when Michael strides towards him, all confidence and intent. 

Clad in sweatpants and a t-shirt, he jumps on the bed, making Alex bounce slightly. He’s laughing when Michael leans in for a kiss, then another, but has to gently push at his shoulders before he can get a third. 

“Hey,” Alex protests. “I’m talking about my day, stop distracting me.”

“Yeah, yeah, so? What was downtown?”

“I got a job at Vinyl Grooves,” Alex brags, moving the sheet music and the guitar off to the ground beside the bed. “Officially quit at the Emporium and I start the new job Monday.”

“Alex, that’s great,” Michael praises, pinning him to the bed and getting that third kiss that Alex had pushed him away from. He walks on his knees until he’s straddling Alex, sitting back on his haunches somewhere near Alex’s ankles. There’s a boyish, hopeful look on Michael’s face, so Alex waits patiently as he rubs his hands over Michael’s hips. “Does this mean you’re for sure, absolutely, definitely not going into the Air Force?”

Alex nods, staring up at Michael. He can’t believe he’s saying this, but he is. “I’m not doing what my father wants me to do.” It feels _glorious_ to get to say that out loud. 

“Again,” Michael demands, like he can tell how much Alex had liked that.

“Fuck my Dad’s plan for me, I’m not doing it.”

“That’s it,” Michael practically cackles with delight, like he’s the one sticking it to Jesse Manes instead of his son. This time, he cups Alex’s cheeks and leans in for a longer kiss that makes Alex melt into the bedsheets. He moans when Michael eases off to start nipping at his jaw, moving his mouth to Alex’s neck for what looks like it’s going to be an incredible afternoon.

At least, until Alex ruins it.

“Wait,” he says, slapping Michael on the back.

“Ow, fuck! What?” Michael hisses. “Don’t tell me the new job comes with a vow of chastity!”

“No, no, just…” He pushes Michael off him, kissing his cheek as he scrambles to get his pencil and the music, because he’d just thought of a great set of lyrics and a hook for the chorus and he needs to get it down before he forgets.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Michael sprawl over on his back, sighing as he shakes his head. “So that’s how it’s gonna be,” he says, which would make Alex feel bad if he didn’t see the stupid grin on Michael’s face as he says it. “All right, I get it, I know I can get pretty intense with my projects,” he says, and rolls onto his side to tug some of the other sheets of music towards him. “You just let me know when I get to play them while you sing.”

Alex might be focused, but not so much that he doesn’t take a pause to consider that _incredible_ possibility. Breath taken, he gives Michael a besotted and adoring smile. “Always,” he guarantees.

Michael nods to the papers. “Then get to work, maestro. Gotta get your songs famous,” he says. “You better believe we’re going to do absolutely everything to make that happen.”

Alex does know that. Now, it’s just his turn to make sure his dreams can become reality.

* * *

In late August, Michael knows the exact moment that Alex has decided to look at the Guerin residence as his _home_ and not just some in-between stop. He knows, because Alex actually asks for something, which he doubts he’d ever do unless he felt truly comfortable with the people around him, not to mention his request is for something _permanent_.

Sure, Alex makes little requests at the grocery store or when they’re at the movies, but they’re always these conditional things. He phrases it with starters like, “If it’s not too much trouble,” or he tries to use other people as an intermediary, putting their opinions before his own.

Then, Alex just goes for broke one day and Michael couldn’t be happier. 

“Can we get a dog?” Alex asks one morning over breakfast.

His mom hums as she watches Michael prepare her tea with his powers, making sure he doesn’t over-steep it. “I thought we already had a pet,” she remarks evenly, keeping the corners of her lips from rising up, even though _she_ thinks she’s funny, clearly. “I always wanted a pet human, growing up.”

Alex doesn’t look as amused. “I’m serious.”

His mother seems a bit hesitant about it, which Michael doesn’t really get. If anyone is responsible, it’s Alex all the way. He’s already made a decision and his mother throws him a sharp look, as if trying to talk him out of it. “We’ll think about it,” is what she says.

“Yeah. Absolutely,” Michael guarantees, even though he’s done his thinking and made a decision.

While his mother is working on the communications array and Alex is at the shop, Michael heads down to the shelter. Every dog there has a sad story and they pull on Michael’s heartstrings, but his empathy for the dogs kind of comes in second next to his mother’s anger at him disobeying her so much.

He's pretty sure she’s already resigned herself to a dog, otherwise he’d be fighting off her trying to influence him otherwise.

“What about this one?” he asks, of the last dog at the end. 

“Still a puppy, but has all the shots and surgeries,” the volunteer says. “You could name it whatever you wanted, but it’s a _very_ high energy dog. You’d have to give it a lot of time and attention.”

“That’s perfect,” Michael insists, because between the three of them, there’s always someone who’ll be ready to give the dog the attention it needs. He reaches for his wallet to get out the money for the fees, finishes the paperwork, and then has them hold the dog for a few hours while he runs out to the pet store and gets everything they’ll need.

Crate in the truck, bags loaded with food, toys, and collars, Michael heads back to pick up the dog from the shelter. He’s late for dinner, but he thinks he’s got a pretty good excuse. He knows there’s absolutely no way his mother’s going to make him take the dog back, especially not when he paid for this with his own money that he’d earned working at the junkyard and restoring old parts before selling them.

It’s the look on Alex’s face that’s going to be worth every penny.

“Hey! I’m home!” Michael calls out. He’s left everything else in the car and had bundled up the dog in a soft blue blanket from the rescue so that the dog won’t freak out completely. Still, it’s wriggling around, trying to smell everything and push his tiny snout outside so he can get a better look. 

He’s not surprised that they both look at him in twin disbelief (even if his mother’s is tempered by her eyeroll like she’s not surprised at all), but he can’t help the way he feels beyond smug and pleased with himself.

“What?” he replies, giving Alex a fond look as he sits in the chair next to him, leaning over so Alex can see what’s in the blanket in his arms. “You said you wanted a dog.”

The dog is an Australian Shepherd with the most stunning eyes Michael has ever seen (outside of Alex’s, of course), and with his high energy and the discipline levels, he knows that this is exactly what they need in the house. His mother shakes her head and sighs, but she gets up and presses a kiss to the top of the dog’s head.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” is what she says, grabbing Michael by the chin, then kissing the top of his head. “Your responsibility!” she warns, before starting to put away dinner.

Michael already knows, but he doubts it’ll be a problem given the look of awe and wonder on Alex’s face. Alex has already co-opted the blanket and has wandered into the living space with him, so Michael takes that as a sign to get all the dog’s things inside to start setting them up, letting Alex have bonding time with the dog.

He’s in the middle of working on the crate when Michael decides to interrupt that time. 

“Okay, so hear me out,” Michael says, when he’s halfway through the crate (even though Michael has sincere doubts about how many nights the dog will actually spend in it). “For his name, think about Rover.”

“The most basic dog name?” Alex retorts, where he’s trying to teach the dog to roll over. 

“Okay, maybe, but it’s not for that.” Michael uses the screwdriver in hand to point at Alex. “I was thinking we could name him Rover, like the Mars rovers,” he explains. “Rover’s a better name than Spirit or Opportunity,” he deadpans. He leans over to give the dog a rub at the ears. “This way, he’s kind of out of this world, just like us,” he says fondly.

“I’m not,” Alex protests.

“You are by association,” Michael guarantees, and leans in to kiss Alex over the dog’s yipping. “Hear that? He likes it.”

“Rover,” Alex says, leaning back and looking at their puppy. “I guess it’s hard to say no to that face.” He turns and gives Michael a stupid grin that’s practically begging for a kiss, but then he has to go and stun Michael into place with his words. “It’s hard to say no to your face, too.” 

Oh yeah, Michael’s never going to second guess getting this dog. Not after that.

Alex goes to bed that night with the puppy in his arms. Mara catches Michael staring at him from the doorway and she gives him a soft smile. 

“You love him so much that I think sometimes you can’t keep it in,” she says, hand over her heart where she can feel Michael’s love for him bursting forth. Even without their connection, she would have known that he does the second Michael came home with a dog all because Alex had asked for one. 

Michael shrugs, staring at the both of them, and he has to give words to what he knows is true. “I know you’ll look after him when I’m gone, but I wanna stack the deck.”

His mother brushes her hand through his curls as she heads to bed. 

Michael crawls onto the other side of the double bed, trying not to dislodge the both of them, but as he’s crawling under the covers, he feels Alex’s hand reaching out. “Hey,” he murmurs sleepily. “Come here,” he mumbles, and turns so that he’s spooning Michael from behind, Rover’s chin on top of Alex’s calf where he’s curled up in a ball.

It’s almost startling how much this one moment makes Michael realize how badly he wants this to be the rest of his life, but he has to temper that dream with reality. Luckily, he’s so worn from the day that even his worries can’t keep him up, not with Alex’s warmth at his back and the dog’s snuffling breaths easing him to sleep.

In the morning, they have other things to think about. 

“Do you have Liz’s gift?” Alex asks, rushing around the room.

“Here,” he guarantees, lifting up the care package they’d put together. It’s practical and boring, no real bells and whistles, but Michael thinks an emergency kit in the car for all situations is way better than a gift basket of wines and stupid ‘live, laugh, love’ trinkets. “You wanna bring the dog?”

Rover barks excitedly, nosing at the leash.

Okay, they’re bringing the dog. 

They’re only running late because Alex’s shift had run long at the store, plus Michael had been out with Rover on a run and had lost track of time. Between the both of them needing to shower and get their shit together, it’s almost six and Liz had wanted to be on the road by seven, after a final dinner with Rosa and her father.

The rush out of the house is chaotic, but they get Rover attached to the new feature on the truck so he won’t leap out of a moving vehicle, Alex keeps the present in his lap as Michael speeds through Roswell, hoping no one from the sheriff’s department is out on the road today, because getting a ticket on the way to Liz’s going away moment would really suck. 

When they get to the Crashdown, Liz’s car is packed up with her suitcases and she and Maria are hanging out, a bottle of champagne between them. Michael slams the door of the truck, getting the dog, while Alex works on the gift basket. 

“Shit, I didn’t realize we were breaking the law,” Michael says, smirking as he takes the glass of champagne from Maria. “Arturo know about this?”

“Arturo said it’s a special occasion,” Maria replies, patting her lap when Alex lets go of Rover’s leash. “Oh my god, he’s much cuter than the pictures you texted,” she sighs, coaxing him to jump into her lap. Rover does, like somehow, he’s been training for this, so clearly Michael knows who their dog’s favorite is. “I’m kidnapping him,” Maria insists. “This is my consolation Liz,” she informs Liz with a winsome smile. “At least he’ll be loyal and never leave me.”

“What are Michael and I, chopped liver?” Alex protests, taking the champagne after putting their gift at Liz’s feet. 

Maria gives Michael a look, almost like she _knows_ something she’s not supposed to. It unnerves him, but she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she finishes her drink and pulls on Alex’s hand so he’s sitting on the bench beside her. “I guess you’ll do, too.”

“You guys didn’t have to do this,” Liz says, from where she’s exploring the basket.

“Time for that later!” Maria says, topping up her glass and Liz’s. “Come here, I want a toast.”

Liz comes back over and takes the glass, standing there as she shakes her hair off her shoulders, looking every bit the triumphant and victorious woman she’s become, ready to charge off and take the world by storm.

“To Liz,” Maria salutes. “My best friend, who I am going to miss like crazy. You’d better write and call and tell us about every exciting adventure. You’d better also steal me during those spring breaks so we can go make some wild stories happen. I wish you all the best of luck even though I know you’re going to shove your nose in a book and be the smartest one there.”

“To Liz,” Alex speaks up. “Even though my common sense is driving out of town tonight, you’d better find a decent guy out there, because you spent too many years with an anchor at your feet and I know without Valenti, you’re gonna meet the most incredible people. Just don’t forget that we had you first.”

Michael grins and lifts his glass. “To Liz,” he says, and knows that she’s gonna kick him. “Who’s gonna learn what it’s like to be the Guerin of the class and have everyone hate her because of her test scores.”

He feels Maria smacking his knee, but even though it buckles a little, he keeps going.

“Thanks for letting Alex bring some weird stranger into the group and helping me see everything incredible about this place,” he says, more subdued. “We’re gonna miss you like crazy.”

“To me,” Liz agrees, wiping tears from her eyes. “Who is now regretting asking you guys here to see me off, because this is so much harder than I ever thought it could be.” She sips at her champagne, but yanks Maria and Alex to their feet (carefully displacing Rover) so she can pull them and Michael into a group hug. “I love you guys,” she says, into their tight huddle. “You better tell me everything that’s happening here. I don’t trust Rosa, she lies to try and keep me away.”

“Promise,” Alex insists. 

She drifts back, finishing her glass. “Michael, help me with this stuff? And you can explain it all too.”

He drifts back from the hug to help load it into the car, making sure Liz knows every single piece and what it’s used for in what emergency. Once he’s finished giving her the instruction manual on how to change a flat, he eases back to go get Rover, but not before Liz can tug on his hand. 

“Not so fast,” she warns. “Before I go, I needed to tell you thank you for doing what Maria and I never did.”

Michael furrows his brow, but he figures it out fairly quick. “I didn’t really do anything either, not until he showed up at my place. That’s all. It could’ve just as easily been the Pony or the Crashdown, you guys would’ve done the same.”

“It still deserves gratitude. And now,” she says. “Make sure you don’t fuck it up. The puppy’s a good start,” she praises.

Michael beams with satisfaction. “Yeah, I thought so too.” He presses a hand over his heart. “I’ll take care of him right up until the moment I can’t and you come back to town to do it infinitely better. That’s the best I can do. Acceptable?”

Liz sticks out her hand. “Deal,” she agrees. 

They shake on it, but then she grabs him into a hug despite his protests, pulling away so he can head back to stand with Alex, Maria, and Rover, watching Liz get into the car to drive away for the next steps in her future.

“There she goes,” Maria sighs. “The responsible one, out to find a better path.” 

Michael knows he should say something, because Maria looks sad about it, as if she’s thinking about her own, but before he can say anything, a voice from the heavens breaks the silence.

“Maria! This thing isn’t going to smoke itself!”

Maria rolls her eyes and glances towards the roof. “She likes to smell it while I smoke,” she explains wryly, given that Rosa’s sobriety has been a contentious thing lately, and this seems to be one of the latest strategies. She hands the leash back to Alex after she gives him a hug, then does the same for Michael. “We still on for lunch this Friday?”

“Definitely,” Alex promises, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. 

Michael doesn’t prod or pry, but neither does Maria. They go their separate ways, but it feels much harder tonight after watching Liz drive off, like they have to really drag themselves to leave. Once they go home, then it’s final. Liz won’t be around to see every day the way she has been for the past year for Michael and over a decade for Alex. 

When they park in the driveway, Michael glances over to ask Alex is he wants to order a pizza and sees tears on his cheeks. He’s been crying quietly, the moonlight giving him away as it makes the tears shine on his cheeks. “Alex,” Michael says, worried. “What is it, what’s wrong?” He leans over and rubs away at the tears with his thumbs, brushing back and forth as he ducks in for a kiss.

He feels like he absorbs the small sob Alex gives before he speaks. “I’ve known for years that Liz was going to take this road trip,” he admits. “I don’t think it hit me until tonight that it means she’s really gone and who knows when she’s going to come back.”

Michael feels a stabbing feeling in his chest that feels very close to guilt. 

In the backseat, Rover whines and nudges his snout against the window of the truck, but Michael’s only focused on Alex. “I’m just,” Alex gets out, laughing and crying at the same time, “I’m gonna miss my best friend so much.”

In less than two years, Michael is going to leave, too. Will Alex miss him, too?

Or will he be so angry that he went that he won’t miss Michael at all?

Michael knows one thing. Tonight’s not the night to tell him. He will, he tells himself, but not yet. Not when Alex is still so upset from seeing Liz drive off into the sunset. He hands the leash to Alex and nods to the dog. “Come on,” Michael says, trying to keep the worry out of his tone. “Let’s get Rover inside, because I think the only thing you need right now are puppy cuddles,” he guarantees, and gets out of the car so Alex can’t study his face in the light and see that Michael’s got secrets that are still keeping distance between them. 

He’ll make a plan. He will. 

“C’mon boy,” Michael whistles and watches as Rover bounds down from the pick-up, trotting after Alex as they head inside. Michael nods with a promise that he’ll be there soon. 

He lingers in the front yard, staring at the completed spaceship on the front lawn. With a few buttons, it will activate and fly him away from here, back to his home and his responsibilities. Glancing to the front door, he sees Alex laughing as he crouches over to dig out the keys from their bag, and Rover takes the chance to lean in and lick Alex’s face. 

Maybe Michael needs to start worrying a little more about how _he’s_ going to cope when the day comes, because right now, it’s not looking great for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Meet Rover](https://d17fnq9dkz9hgj.cloudfront.net/breed-uploads/2018/08/australian-shepherd-detail.jpg?bust=1535565122&width=355) and as always, if you ever want to come ramble at me, [I'm on tumblr](https://andrea-lyn.tumblr.com/) and often love to just talk about these 'verses.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to estel_willow for the look at this one!

Alex wakes to an empty bed. 

When did Michael leave? He rolls over and rubs his palm over the sheets, feeling the warmth that means he was there until only recently. Stumbling to his feet, he grabs a t-shirt to pull it on, hearing voices from the kitchen. “You know I don’t ask much of you,” is Mara’s voice, using her even-keeled mature tone, “but you are still in the royal line and a video message for your uncle’s birthday is really the least I can ask. You couldn’t have dressed up a little more?”

“My uncle knows exactly what I look like and the things I like to wear,” Michael’s protesting. “What does it matter if I’m wearing jeans with a hole or two in them?”

There’s silence, but Michael lets out a groan, so Mara must be levelling him with a sharp look.

“Fine! I’ll go be Prince Michael and…” He trails off, because Alex loudly puts his foot down on the first floor, staring at the both of them with disbelief. He could still be dreaming, but he’s pretty sure that he just heard his alien boyfriend and his mother mention _royalty_ and princes. 

What other secrets are lingering under the surface? Also, did he just find himself into some weird Hallmark movie where he’s the male lead?

“You’re a prince?” he asks Michael, squinting at Mara. “Which makes you…?”

“Nothing,” Mara says cheerfully, sipping her tea as Michael sulkily sinks down into a chair. “I abdicated.” She leans over to ruffle Michael’s curls, pointedly directing him to his bedroom. “You,” she insists. “Change.” Michael pushes up to his feet and heads upstairs, leaning in to press a kiss to Alex’s cheek on the way up. 

There’s a nervous look on his face, but he says nothing, like he wants to give Alex time to process.

“I’m dating a prince,” Alex says, feeling like that news is going to take some time to settle in. He leans down to pat Rover when the dog comes over to greet him, sinking down into the chair that Michael had abandoned as he tries to run the information in his head. “Michael came here to earth to spend time with you, but he’s an alien prince, who I’m dating.” It doesn’t matter how he rearranges the words, it’s still almost too much for Alex to process.

“I’m, like, twelfth in line!” Michael shouts from upstairs, while Mara heads to the living room to find something. “Not to mention, I’m the last thing you’d think of when you think royal princes.” He bounds down the stairs in a white button-down and pair of black slacks, groaning when Mara sets a thick photo album on the kitchen table. “Mom,” he protests, as he adjusts the cufflinks.

“Go record your message for my brother,” she directs. “We’ll explain things to Alex a little more after, but I think he deserves the chance to see your baby pictures now that he knows the truth.” She gives him a dismissive wave of her fingers and Michael tips his head back, groaning, but marches off to the garage.

Alex is still staring after him. In that outfit, it’s a lot easier to understand. Should he have seen this? No. He couldn’t have. Michael is a genius and an alien, those things have been lying under the surface, but the kid who came to school in greasy jeans and sometimes forgot to comb his hair for a week. Maybe at prom, when he’d been so elegant and graceful in the suit and had walked with such comported class, he should have guessed. Even then, it would’ve seemed like a stretch.

“This is real. You’re not just trying to pull one over on me? He’s a prince?”

“Technically,” Mara says, opening the album and coaxing Alex to sit beside her. “His intellect set him apart when he was very young, so he spent less time waving his hand at functions and much more time working on government projects. There were a few years we had to trot him out, though,” she says, tapping a picture of Michael in the coronation cape, wearing a too-big crown, smiling for the camera with both teeth missing.

Alex hates how adorable it is, especially since every following picture is only more so, from the costume of him as a child as a scientist to the one of him in a full suit, riding atop an animal that resembles a horse (though with a couple extra limbs). He’s still struggling with the telekinetic genius alien thing. Now he has to worry about Michael being a prince on top of it.

“Mom,” Michael groans, and closes the book. “Can you not freak Alex out?” he says, storming back into the kitchen. He grabs a piece of bacon to give it to Rover, that nervous look still on his face. “Message is recorded, if you want to go review and edit.”

Michael’s clearly begging her to do it, seeing as the tone he uses doesn’t leave much room for her to argue. She takes her tea with her and gives Michael the space he clearly wants to talk to Alex, alone. 

Alex reaches for the book of baby pictures, because if Michael thinks he’s done looking at them, then he’s sorely mistaken. Curling it against his torso, he sits back in his chair and gives him an expectant look. 

“Are you…freaked out?” Michael asks warily.

“What, that my genius alien boyfriend happens to be a prince, too?” Alex deadpans, the sarcasm heavy in his words. “If it weren’t for the fact that I had to drag you into having friends, save you from your own success at school, and pretty much regularly stop you from burning down the house with your cooking, I’d have thought you were too good to be true.”

Michael narrows his eyes and studies Alex, like he’s not sure what that means. “So, is that a yes?”

Alex rolls his eyes. “Of course! Obviously, I’m a little freaked out. Would the aliens in Santa Fe call you something, like your grace or excellency or…?” His boyfriend, the secret royal. “I definitely never wanted to be a prince consort, is that what I am?”

“I don’t care about _any_ of that,” Michael protests weakly. “You’re Alex Manes, that’s all. That’s all I want you to be,” he fights him, the words spat out aggressively even though there’s no anger on his face. 

He looks _scared_ , like he thinks this will be enough to make Alex call it quits. Alex reaches out for Michael’s hand, because he needs to stop that idiotic idea before it gathers too much steam.

“Hey, this really isn’t a deal breaker, but why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

Michael lets Alex tug him closer, sinking down into his lap with a look of disbelief on his face. “Why didn’t I tell my boyfriend that I’m royalty?” He wraps both arms around Alex’s neck and makes that stupid scrunched up face that he always does when he’s mocking someone, only now it’s Alex on the other end of it. “I don’t know, because you would have thought that I was crazy or having some kind of nervous breakdown?”

“I would have believed you,” Alex protests. “…Eventually.” He rubs a hand over Michael’s back, peering towards the garage. “What did your Mom mean? Is that why she can be here, because she abdicated?”

Michael nods, staring at his lap. He twists the signet ring on his pinky finger back and forth, not meeting Alex’s eyes as he does. “She said that it was a choice that I could make when I got old enough to make it, but pretty sure that means twenty-one,” he says, shrugging. He doesn’t have to mention that it’s a long way off, and that means Michael can’t ignore who he is. “Being here helps. There are barely any expectations on me. My cousins back home, they’re in the direct line. Max and Isobel. Not their real names,” he admits. “Just like mine’s not really Michael, but it’s the one I chose, so it’s the one I want to use, because being named after your father is kind of crushing when a kid is trying to be unique,” he snorts. “Our family is all about duty and tradition, sometimes.”

“I didn’t know you had cousins back home,” Alex says, starting to realize how much of a window this opens up into Michael’s life. 

Michael nods, taking the book from Alex so he can flip it open to some of the more recent pictures. He taps one of the ones that looks a little newer, of him, Isobel, and Max at a function when they were sixteen. It’s them, celebrating one of Michael’s successful inventions, and the twins flanking him on each side. There they stand, Isobel in peach, Max in black, and Michael in a muted brown.

“You want to talk royal responsibilities? Those two are buried under them. I got lucky. I showed enough aptitude by twelve that they put me to work.”

“That doesn’t sound very lucky to me,” Alex replies warily, because being put to work and used for Michael’s intellect sounds like they’re exploiting him, just in a different way. “It sounds like they slapped a different coat of paint on it and you think that means it’s better just because you’re inventing things for them instead of giving speeches.” He frowns and gives Michael a long look, sliding his fingers into his hair. “You said your dad’s in the army. Does that mean…?”

“General for the planet,” Michael confirms, nodding and making Alex feel like all of his expectations had been really small compared to this. “At first, they thought I’d be taking over for him,” he admits. “Then, the scientific advisors got their hands on me, but I love it, Alex,” he insists. “I really do. Other than playing music, being with you, it’s the one thing that really gives me peace.”

Alex still isn’t so sure that it’s as good as Michael is saying, but he flips through the pictures to learn about this other side of Michael’s life, staring at how he beams in the pictures with trophies and inventions held in his hands. He sees the pride on Max and Isobel’s faces, even in the pictures, and he knows that even though he disagrees with a planet that makes Michael do this as a _kid_ , there’s no questioning the fact that Michael loves it.

Closing the picture book, he sits back and tips his chin up so he can look at Michael. 

“Am I allowed to call you ‘his royal highness’ when we’re making out?” he asks teasingly, willing to let his worries slide away for the moment.

“I prefer Michael,” he replies, smirking at him. “Maybe for special occasions, though…”

Alex leans up to steal a kiss from Michael, wrapping his arms tighter around his waist. That’s how Mara finds them when she comes back to put her empty mug in the sink, giving them both an amused look. “Are we all done with the pictures?”

Alex’s ‘no’ is louder than Michael’s ‘yes’, but it doesn’t matter.

“In that case, time for the videos!” 

Michael nearly gets shoved on the ground in Alex’s haste to join her in the living room, ignoring Michael’s sputtered protests. There’s plenty of time to ask more questions later. Right now, he wants to see every embarrassing video of little Michael that there is to offer, and given the weight of the box Mara hands him, there are _so many_ to get started with.

* * *

It’s Michael’s eighteenth birthday when Michael changes Alex’s world again, though this time it's not for the better.

Alex has been living with them for almost eight months and he can honestly say that it’s the happiest he’s ever been. He’d thought that falling in love with Michael was as good as it gets, but he’d been so wrong. He’s never felt safer or more loved than he does under the Guerins’ roof (at least, he hasn’t since his mother abandoned them). His own eighteenth birthday had been incredible with a dinner out to celebrate Alex turning eighteen, but also the sale of his first song to a small label for indie artists.

They hadn’t promised him that it would get used, but he’d still sold it after months of work. It had been his first real success down the path he’d been dreaming about for years, and it had been the happiest day of his life (outside of the moment when Michael had kissed back that very first time).

Now, it’s Michael’s eighteenth birthday and Alex doesn’t even know what the plan is. He’d gone out and bought Michael a bunch of vinyl records along with some of his favorite candies, but Mara hasn’t said anything about plans for a party. Alex had made his own small plan, but all he needs is a few hours, the pick-up truck, his guitar, and a clear night.

So long as the storms hold off, he’s guaranteed all of that tonight. There’s something else that looks like it could ruin his plans, though, and that storm’s been building since the morning and under their roof.

Michael’s been fidgeting all day and Alex hasn’t got a clue _why_. Finally, just after dinner, Alex decides enough is enough. They’re getting ready for the drive out to the desert, but if Michael is going to act like this the whole time, he doesn’t think he can stand it. “What?” Alex asks, giving Michael a pleading look. “What is it? Does your species manifest some new trait at eighteen? Are you about to get wings or a secondary power…?”

“No, it’s…” Michael closes his eyes tightly. It looks like he’s gathering up all his courage to speak, but when he does, it’s hushed and quick. “I need to show you something?” Michael says, his voice lilting up nervously, like he’s not sure about this. “I need to tell you something too, but before I do, I need you to be there with me in front of it or it isn’t going to seem real.”

Alex isn’t sure what’s going on, but he nods. They can press pause on their plans, but he hitches his grip on his bag and the guitar, letting Michael lead him to the front yard. 

They don’t go anywhere. Michael doesn’t even say anything. He just stands there, staring at the spaceship in the front lawn, silently. It’s unnerving and Alex is about to open his mouth to say so when Michael finally speaks. 

“I have to go home,” says Michael. 

Alex feels like Michael must have taken a birthday shot or something, because what he’s saying is making no sense. In the two and a half years that he’s known him, this has always been home and it doesn’t look like Mara is packing up to leave the house. “What?” he asks, shaking his head as he scoffs. “You are home,” he points out. “Your Mom’s cleaning up dinner in the kitchen, our bedroom is upstairs, you’re here. You’re home.”

“I mean Antar home,” Michael clarifies, rubbing his fingers over Alex’s palm. He’s not so sure who that’s supposed to benefit, because Michael looks about as wrecked as Alex is starting to feel. “I have royal duties. I have to go back and give my time to the program. I promised that I would only be here for three years, which means…”

“Which means you go back in under a year,” Alex finishes that awful thought.

He feels frozen in place by the blow of the news. Everything makes so much sense, now. It’s why Michael isn’t going away to school and why he hasn’t been looking for a job. It’s why Michael changes the subject every time they start talking about the future. It’s why he’d looked so guilty and sad when Liz had driven away. He drops the bag to the ground, the guitar hitting after, and Alex hasn’t even given thought to the wood potentially shattering.

This revelation is so much worse than the possibility of a broken guitar. Michael has always known that his time here is temporary. Michael is leaving. He’s leaving him and going away. 

“Hey,” Michael says, leaning forward to tug on Alex’s hand to coax him to step into his personal space. “Hey, you gotta let me finish, please?” 

Alex feels like he’s about to cry, but Michael isn’t done speaking. He’s not sure what he’s about to say to make it better, but he nods to give him a chance. His breaths are starting to get a little more rapid, and he thinks that it’s the worst he’s ever felt, even worse than the nights when Jesse would leave him battered and bruised. 

“I negotiated. Three years here, in exchange for three years of work. I didn’t really count on meeting anyone when I got here,” he admits, his nose scrunching up and Alex can tell that Michael is fighting back tears of his own. “You kind of came out of nowhere, Alex,” he laughs, wiping at his cheek with the back of his hand. “When I struck that deal, I thought I just wanted the freedom to do something else with my life, but now it almost feels like it was meant to be so that I could come back here to you.”

Alex is still fixating on the awful things he’s heard.

Michael is leaving and he’s going to be gone for three _years_. It takes a second for the rest to hit him. “Wait,” he manages, swallowing back the grief. “You’re coming back?”

The rapid-fire nodding makes Alex feel better, but he still leans forward to press his forehead to Michael’s, not sure he can let him drift away from him. 

“I had no idea how to tell you, so I kept putting it off,” Michael babbles, rubbing his forehead against Alex’s. “When we first got together, I thought about telling you. Then when Liz left, I thought it would be the right time, but you were already so upset…”

“You figured your eighteenth birthday was the right time?” Alex snaps, knowing that his patience is short and he shouldn’t take it out on Michael, but his boyfriend just told him that he’s leaving. “Does this mean you want us to break up when you go? Am I being kicked out of your house?”

“What?” Michael’s eyes go wide with horror. “No. Fuck, no. I already talked to my Mom about it and she agrees that when I’m gone, this is still your home.” He looks as frightened as Alex feels, like he’s just as terrified of Alex going back to the Manes house. “As for us, I wouldn’t want to ask anything that you’re not willing to give, but I don’t wanna break up if you don’t want to.”

Alex is ready to shake his head and insist that he doesn’t want to, but that’s his instinct. He takes a breath and asks himself if he’s really willing to spend three years of his life in a long-distance relationship with an alien prince who’s going back home.

“What if what we want doesn’t matter?” he asks, feeling haunted by that idea. 

Michael shakes his head, clearly not believing that. “Nope,” he insists. “I think that’s one of the few things we can control. You gotta tell me if you want to keep things going, because I do. I love you, Alex,” he shares, and it’s the first time he’s actually said those words out loud, even though Alex thinks he’s always known. “I’m not throwing that away, not now that I’ve found it.”

“I love you too,” Alex hears himself admit, something he never thought he’d say to anyone outside of his friends and his Mom, but there it is. He eases back from Michael, feeling exhausted, but knowing he needs to be honest. “I do want us to stay together. I want us to figure this out.” 

He spends one last moment staring at the spaceship before he puts all his attention on Michael. 

“I want to celebrate your eighteenth birthday and not think about how you’re leaving me.”

From the flinch, Alex knows that his words have hurt Michael, but he needs him to understand how much it’s hurting _him_. He just learned that the alien he loves is about to fly off for three years. He doesn’t think he should be expected to just be okay with that. He closes his eyes tightly when Michael pulls away, and Alex doesn’t want to apologize, but he wants to make it hurt just a little less.

“Michael,” he pleads. “I’ll process it, I will, but all I want to do tonight is celebrate.” 

He had big plans for tonight and he doesn’t want to miss out on them. Alex leans forward to reach for Michael, but he’s already picking up Alex’s things to get them in the truck, giving Alex a half-smile. “I get it. I put this off for a long time and I’m glad I told you, but I should’ve told you going into this thing that I was leaving, that we’d have to take a breather at some point.”

Alex watches Michael load up the truck and lets his gaze slide over him. He can ask about logistics later; he can figure out letters and videos and all the points of contact they’ll have. He’s spent a long time making sure tonight’s going to happen and even though Michael’s decided to rock his world, Alex isn’t about to let that ruin it.

He checks his pocket for the lube, the condoms, and once he’s sure they’re safe, he climbs into the driver’s seat of the truck. “Come on,” he encourages. “Time for your birthday gift.”

Michael’s smile is still somewhat reserved. Alex knows that he can drag them both out from under the news, they just need to get out to Foster Ranch, where he’s set everything up. 

As he pulls the truck out of the driveway, Alex glares at the spaceship in the front yard. For so long, it’s represented what made Michael and Mara unique and incredible, but now he sees it for what it really is. It’s the vehicle that’s going to take Michael away from him and leave him without the man he loves for three long years.

Today, he hates it. 

It’s not a beautiful thing that represents his unique boyfriend, it’s an _awful_ thing that Alex is going to ignore. He closes his eyes tightly and makes the last turn towards Foster Ranch. He’d gotten permission from the family to set up here for the night, and he’d come out earlier to set up the blanket and the small little fortress area for stargazing. There are tiki torches in every corner framing a blanket on the ground.

It’s Michael’s eighteenth birthday and Alex had wanted them to take the next step tonight. He didn’t think he’d be doing that and adding a countdown to when Michael’s going to be leaving him to his calendar.

The drive had been a silent thing, impinging on awkwardness, because it feels like every topic they start gets cut off before it gets too deep, because they’re both so hyper-aware of where it might lead. Silence is better than a fight, so Alex takes advantage to take a few deep breaths and think about what everything means. 

Luckily, when Michael sees what Alex has done, his breath catches and it seems like Alex has done enough to change the mood. 

“When did you do all this?”

Alex settles the bags down on the blanket as he gives Michael a fond smile. “When you, Mara, and Rover went downtown to pick out your birthday gift, I drove out here to set it all up.” 

Alex pries the guitar out from the case and settles down on the blanket, patting the space beside him. Michael doesn’t need telling twice, lying back and resting his cheek against Alex’s calves, staring up at him with a sleepy, soft look that has Alex realizing that he’d wait a decade for him, if he had to. 

It’s like a gut-punch, but it’s a good one. He knows that three years will be hard, but not impossible. He also knows that if anyone is worth fighting for, then it’s gonna be Michael Guerin, who’s been fighting on his behalf ever since they met. 

(And, if he’d stopped to think about it, Alex would see that it goes both ways)

“Are you going to sing me happy birthday again?” Michael asks, his voice low. 

Alex strums a few chords to warm up, shaking his head. “I had something a little different planned,” he admits, shifting into the chords as he stares down at Michael, a lump in his throat as he jumps right to the chorus. “And you can tell everybody this is your song,” he sings to him, blinking back the tears because he knows that in a matter of months, all he’ll have are songs to remind him of Michael when they’re apart.

He swallows back that thought, because that’s not something for tonight.

Tonight is to celebrate Michael being eighteen and the fact that they love one another, and that Alex is ready for that next step. “It may be quite simple, but, now that it’s done. I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind, that I put down in words how wonderful life is while you’re in the world…”

He sets the guitar aside, because he can’t stop himself from falling down that rabbit hole filled with grief.

“Alex,” Michael says, alarmed. “Alex, no,” he begs softly, wiping at his cheeks as he wraps his arms around Alex to bring him close.

“You’re not gonna be in this world with me,” Alex realizes, his breath shaky. “You helped me get away from my Dad and now you’re gonna leave me too, just like my Mom left, and she never came back. What if you don’t either?” It feels like it’s all pouring out of him now that he’s uncorked the emotions and he can’t stop it, not even when Michael starts to rock him in his arms. “I love you. I fell in love with you so hard that I didn’t think about what it would be like if I lost you,” Alex manages past his trembling lower lip. “And now it’s not just a possibility, but it’s gonna be our reality. You say you’re going to come back, but you don’t know that. You can’t make me that promise.”

Michael doesn’t say anything, which is probably for the best, because Alex is operating solely on feelings right now and he’s not sure that he could take any logic applied to the situation.

“I know there’s probably so much more to this than I’d ever understand, but I need to ask you. Stay? For me?”

When he looks at Michael, his face is wracked with turmoil. “If anyone could make me, it’d be you, but I owe my people those years. The progress that I could make would help thousands of people and I’m still part of the royal lineage. If I wanted to get out of it, I have to go back regardless.”

What he’s saying is that there’s no way forward that doesn’t involve Michael going back home.

Alex closes his eyes tightly, breathing in raggedly, all while Michael holds him. They stay like this for almost a half hour, tangled up, exchanging desperate kisses. He doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he’s glad that Michael takes that first, brave step.

“Does this mean you changed your mind?” Michael asks warily. “Is it over?”

Alex eases back and shakes his head. “Michael, I’d wait a lifetime for you if you promised you’d be coming back,” he admits. His voice is hoarse from crying and from the sobs he couldn’t stop. “I didn’t bring you out here tonight to dump you, I…”

He reaches into his pocket to dig out the lube and the condoms, raising his brows pointedly to try and get his point across.

“…Oh. I…” Michael stammers, running his hand through his hair. “Uh, I …”

“If you want to,” Alex quickly insists, because he knows that neither of them has ever done this with _anyone_ , but he feels like it’s time. Now, more than ever. He doesn’t want to send Michael off for years without being able to know what it feels like when their bodies connect in such a cosmic, perfect way.

Michael doesn’t actually say anything. Instead, he leans back onto the blanket, licks his lower lip, and then runs a hand through his hair again so that the curls flop onto his forehead. “I’ve wanted for two years,” he groans, sliding his hand inside his jeans, making Alex swat at it, because if they’re doing this, then he wants to do it right. 

Michael shifts a little on the blanket as Alex crawls over top of him. “This is okay?” he checks, his voice quiet. Michael looks incandescently handsome in the firelight, and Alex knows that he’ll never forget this moment. He strips off his shirt, drops his belt on top of it, and helps Michael out of his pants, laughing when he has to swat at Michael’s hand again.

“Would you stop it?” he bursts out laughing.

“Make me,” Michael challenges.

Well, then, he has absolutely no choice but to do exactly that.

Alex lays Michael back down and together, they share their first time under the umbrella of the stars and galaxies above them. With every kiss, with every hot press of skin to skin, Alex tries to shake the desperation from his mind and enjoy tonight for what it is. It almost seems impossible when those very stars he’d brought Michael to see are the same ones that will steal him away. When they’re tangled up together like this, blanketed by the night sky, it feels right and Alex knows that he’ll defy the universe if it thinks it’s going to keep Michael from him.

Later, when the torches have almost burned down and Alex is wrapped around Michael’s sleeping body possessively tight, he thinks about his own responsibilities.

Be strong. Be brave. _Stay_.

If he keeps his promises and Michael does too, then what’s three years but a blink of an eye?


	12. Chapter 12

The worst part, Alex has learned, about having an alien boyfriend is not being able to talk about his alien-specific problems with anyone outside of said boyfriend’s mother. What Alex needs to discuss isn’t a problem he wants to take to Mara, which is why Alex asks Maria to go to the drive-in with him. 

Obviously, he can’t tell her the whole truth of his issue, but Alex thinks he can hint around the issue enough to get advice.

“Corn dogs or pretzels?” Maria asks, jolting him out of his thoughts. Alex stares at the display and gestures for the corn dog, digging out the money he’d earned from his last gig setting up at open mic night, getting the sound systems ready. “I mean, should I have even asked?” she teases. “I’m so glad you called. I feel like I barely see you now that we don’t have school.”

“Yeah, well, you’re busy working with your Mom at the Pony,” Alex points out.

Maria arches her brow as she climbs up onto the bed of her truck, holding a hand out for Alex to take. He grabs hold and hauls himself up. “And you’re shacking up with your boyfriend,” she retorts, patting her thighs to beckon Rover onto the truck with him. The dog yips excitedly and practically tackles Maria as he curls in for his regular petting session. “You’ve been happy,” she says. “I can read it off you in waves. You’re…hopeful, even if there’s something behind it tonight. Something like a dark cloud hovering over that happiness.”

Alex settles into the back of the truck, staring at the blank drive-in screen. He’s still figuring out how to even talk about this when Maria gently nudges his side, because apparently she wants an answer now. 

“What happened? Did you two break up?”

“I don’t think so,” Alex admits. “I mean, no.” He says that with more clarity. “No, I don’t think we did. We did have sex,” he confesses quietly (because that’s the last thing he needs someone to overhear), which Maria whoops upon hearing, making Alex bury his face in his hands. “Can you not?” he pleads.

“Are you kidding me? You two idiots were dancing around one another for _two years_. You finally hit a home run, I’m allowed to cheer,” Maria says, clapping her hands together with delight (and Rover barks a few times when Maria claps, before wriggling his way back into her lap). “So, if you two did the deed and you’re still dating, why do you look like you’re miserable and why the sudden phone call to come watch a movie _without_ Michael?”

Alex has been tearing up one of the napkins in his hands, breathing deeply. He knows that he can tell Maria about some of this, seeing as Michael will tell a version of the story himself, but it still feels like he’s betraying his confidence.

“Next year, just before Michael turns nineteen, he’s going away,” Alex says quietly. “For a three-year project.”

“Is he coming back?”

Alex nods tentatively, because Michael’s made his assurances, but a lot can happen in three years. What if Michael meets someone else? What if Michael goes back home and remembers how much he loves it there or that he loves his work more than he loves Alex? What if all this time, what he and Michael have isn’t as cosmic as he wants it to be?

“He says he is.”

Maria holds the blanket open to give Alex the room to curl in with her. Rover’s already made himself a snug home and Alex can’t help his laugh at how the dog has definitely taken advantage of Maria’s generosity. Rover’s pretty smart, though, so Alex takes his lead and burrows in on the other side.

She tilts her head to give Alex a sad look. “You don’t believe him?”

“Three years is longer than we’ve known him,” Alex says, and when he thinks about it like that, it feels like they might be talking eternity. He has to force himself not to think of it like that, but it’s _impossible_. “What would I even do?”

“Pine,” Maria whispers (now that the movie is getting started) which sounds like what she thinks he’ll do. “You could focus on your career. Would you move out?”

Alex supposes he could get his own place. “Mara said I could stay if I wanted. Free rent’s a pretty good incentive.” Not to mention, he’s not sure that he could willingly leave the good environment that Mara’s created for him. Even without Michael, he knows that she would never put him on the street and he could use a support system that isn’t him leaning on Maria for everything. “I don’t know what to do. I even begged him to stay,” he confesses.

“Oh, Alex,” Maria breathes out, giving him a sympathetic look. “Well, the good news is that I plan to keep you busy being my wingman,” she insists. “I’ve decided that I’m going to have at least five flings in as many months.”

He laughs loudly, but a quick look at her face shows that she’s being serious.

“It’s good to have goals?” he says, wondering where this came from, though it’s not like she had much luck of it in high school, seeing as Maria had standards and the majority of guys in their class didn’t even meet that low bar.

“Besides, you can make sure that we don’t let Liz forget about her friends here and guilt her into visiting,” she adds. “Have you considered asking Michael about an open relationship?” It’s tentative, and Alex would be lying if he said he hadn’t.

The truth is that three years is a long time and who’s to say that Alex won’t get so lonely that he might want someone else’s company. Of course, every time he even thinks about it, his brain reminds him that Michael would also be open to seeking out other people and that’s what shuts it down, every time.

“The way I see it, when he gets back, I’ll be twenty-two,” he says. “If I were going away to school, I would barely be finishing up a program. If I find the right work, I can keep myself busy. You and Mara will do the rest, I’m sure.” 

Maria curls into him as they snack and watch the movie. He wishes that he could relax, but every time he nearly does, he thinks about how he’s not going to be able to watch movies with Michael for three years. 

By the intermission, it’s clear that he’s still freaking out, because Maria pinches him.

“Maria,” Alex whines, and Rover echoes it.

“Stop obsessing about it. I’m sure he’ll call while he’s away,” she says.

Alex’s face falls, which is enough of a tell that he’s sure she’s going to start suspecting something if she hasn’t already. Maria’s always had that kind-of psychic thing going and he’s always been waiting for her to figure out that something isn’t exactly right at the Guerin household. 

“Alex,” she says, more serious now. “Where is he going?”

“Far,” is all Alex says. “Limited contact, from what I understand. I’ll get to talk to him every few months.” It means that the time is going to be hard, but there will be moments to look forward to. There won’t be touches or kisses or the feel of his fingers buried in Michael’s curls. Those are the small things that he’s going to have to get used to. He’ll have to get used to a bed that’s cool in the morning (Rover is definitely taking Michael’s spot, not that he’ll tell him) and he’ll need to get used to sending texts that aren’t instantly replied to with the most embarrassing and flush-inducing selfies.

Fuck, he’s going to miss Michael so much.

“Alex, is everything okay at the Guerin household?”

_Well, they’re aliens and Michael is a super-genius who’s needed back on his home planet and I think if I push hard enough, he might just give it all up to waste his life with me, which I’m not going to say no to._

Instead of saying anything remotely close to the truth, he takes an overly large bite of his corn dog. “Yup,” he says, because lying about the shitty thing that’s happening in his life is par for the course. At least this time, it’s not about the bruises he’s wearing on the outside.

Only the giant bruise he’s going to have on his heart.

Funny how it doesn’t hurt any less.

* * *

There are no calendars in the house marked with The Day. Despite no one ever talking about it or mentioning it, it’s something that can’t be avoided. In the week leading up, Michael takes the ship from its position on the front lawn and puts it in the backyard, where he can make adjustments at night from its takeoff position.

Alex gets more depressed with each passing day that leads them closer to Michael’s departure.

“Alex,” Michael pleads quietly, when he finds Alex burrowed under the covers. It’s only ten in the morning, but he could spend the whole day here if he tried hard enough. Michael sighs and crawls into bed with him. As much as Alex would love to sulk and reject his advances, he also knows there’s only going to be so many more times they can do this.

Six days’ worth, to be perfectly frank.

Alex grabs at the hem of Michael’s shirt to haul him in. “You’re sure you don’t want to stay? I thought what I did with my mouth last night was pretty convincing.”

Michael’s grin is buried in Alex’s neck, but he can feel the huff of laughter. “Oh, trust me, you were plenty convincing. You nearly got us both hosed down by Mom, if it weren’t for you giving me something to put my mouth on,” he says, and rubs his thumb in circles against the hickey on Alex’s wrist, where Michael had become a vampiric-like creature while Alex had sucked him off.

Alex can’t muster up the energy to do too much else, sighing heavily as he tips his head to the side. “I saw you packing up the truck. Where are you going?”

“Just taking some scrap to the junkyard and picking up some materials to make some extra fuel, just in case,” Michael says, stroking his hand over Alex’s back. “You could come with me, if you want?” he offers it with this little note of shyness, like he’s not sure if Alex wants to be there with him.

He does. The truth is that he doesn’t want to be five feet from Michael at any point over the next week, but as mature as he tries to be, he also knows that he’s not ready to put on the kind of brave face that he should. 

“Yeah,” he agrees softly. “Of course.”

He goes with Michael on his errands, even if he stays silent throughout them. Maybe he shouldn’t have come, because it’s a stark reminder of what Michael is preparing for. He tries to smile every time Michael looks at him, but he’s pretty starkly aware of the fact that this is probably the most upset that he’s been since before he moved in with Mara and Michael.

Why shouldn’t he be?

The boy he’s in love with is leaving the planet for three _years_. Yes, he’s promised that he’s coming back, but all Alex can think about are the kisses they’ll miss, the mornings they won’t wake up next to one another, and how he’s going to lose one of his best friends. 

He’d been dreaming of creating a life together, setting up a future that they both get to live.

That’s kind of hard to do when your boyfriend turns out to be an alien prince whose genius intellect is needed to help advance a civilization. He can’t even be angry, really, because it would be selfish of him to keep Michael all for himself when people need him.

Fuck everyone, is Alex’s opinion.

He needs Michael just as much. 

The next few days follow a similar pattern. Michael spends them preparing, Alex spends them sulking, and Mara looks worried. Alex is sure that it’s because Michael is leaving and has nothing to do with him, but she still brings him plates of food and insists that he eats them so Rover doesn’t. 

It’s two days before the worst day of Alex’s life (or so he’s anticipating) when he brings down one of those empty plates and finds Mara at the kitchen table in her robe, staring into space, looking exhausted.

With a pang, Alex only now realizes that he hasn’t been thinking about the fact that he’s not the only one that Michael is leaving behind. Once he’s done washing and drying his dish, he puts on the kettle before sliding into the chair beside Mara’s. This is kind of outside of his comfort zone, if only because he still doesn’t know what anyone could say to him to make him feel better. 

Maybe it’s not about feeling better. Maybe this is just about sharing the misery.

“I think the hardest thing,” Mara finally speaks, “is trying to put on a brave face when he’s near.” 

“At least you’re trying. I think I’ve just been making him feel worse,” Alex admits, and he feels guilty, but at the same time, he doesn’t. It feels like lying to Michael to pretend that he’s not upset. If there’s one thing he doesn’t want, it’s for Michael to leave and not realize how much Alex loves him and is going to miss him. “Maybe if you showed him how hard it is, maybe it would make his decision harder.”

Mara gives him a pained look, a soft sound in her throat that sounds like a truncated sob. “Alex, sweetheart, that’s the last thing I want to do. He has to go back. I know you still hope he’ll change his mind, but it’s not about him _wanting_ to go. It’s about duty. He needs to go back, no matter how much he wants to stay with us, because that’s the expectation on him as a prince of Antar.”

Alex gives a derisive scoff. “Your monarchy kind of sucks.”

“You don’t have to convince me. I’m the one who abdicated and left. It’s a rotten system when you’re the one inside the cage, but also when you’re outside of it,” Mara assures him. “From what I hear, Michael might have plans to do similar.”

Alex gapes at her. “What? I didn’t...he didn’t...”

“He told you that he was coming back, didn’t he?”

Alex nods, feeling a little like he’s on autopilot, trying to go over those conversations in his mind to remember if Michael had actually said the word ‘abdicate’ when he talked about coming back, but he’s sure that he hadn’t. “He did,” he agrees, but that means he’s coming back. He’s been here for the last three years and he’s still fulfilling all of his royal responsibilities. Why would it be any different next time? 

(Never mind that even Alex understands, deep down, that the rules change when you’re older and people are expecting you to begin your life).

“If Michael intends to come back temporarily, then yes, he could. If he comes back to stay, he’d be giving up that life.” 

Alex settles back into his chair to think about what that would mean. Of course he wants Michael here with him, permanently, but could he really be the reason that Michael gives up all his privilege and what he’d been born into for him? Does he want to be the sole reason he does? Lucky for him, the whistling of the kettle gives him a distraction and Alex dives into preparing mugs of tea so he doesn’t have to think about the implications of Michael returning for good and what that means for their future.

He sets one in front of Mara, smiling for the reassuring mental brush he feels, before sinking down into his chair.

Upstairs, Michael is sleeping fitfully after a long day in the sun making last-minute manual adjustments to the ship. Downstairs, Mara and Alex sit and think about how much their lives are about to change in the course of only a few days. 

“How did you do it before?” Alex wonders, because this is his first time losing Michael, but Mara had walked away and has experience when it comes to a Michael-less life. “How did you even manage to leave him?”

“I rarely saw him to begin with when I was around. He was always enrolled in a new class, training and learning, or with his father on missions when we still thought he might be the next general. The opportunity to become a scientific liaison on Earth appeared, I took it, and didn’t look back. It was hard. Some days, it was near impossible. I went back home two years ago to visit him, but then the years before he came here, even knowing he would be, was difficult every day. It helped to have hobbies, a distraction, local friends.” She reaches over to squeeze his hand. “This time, I’ve got an Alex. You’re every bit as much mine as you are his,” Mara tells Alex, squeezing his hand a little tighter. “After he goes, this is still your home. You won’t lose that, and I’m going to need a teenager to focus all my attention on, so you might come to regret that,” she jokes, with the same wry smile that Michael uses when he’s trying to smile past the pain.

Alex doubts that, but he smiles at Mara and decides to humor her. “No love life to meddle into.”

“That leaves plenty,” she guarantees, thumb brushing over the gauge in his ear. “Fashion sense, for one…”

Alex ducks away with a protest in his throat, giving Mara a wrinkle of his nose. “Next you’ll be commenting on my eyeliner.”

She raises her brow, but says nothing (which says everything).

Alex feels like he can breathe a little better for the talk, but they sip their tea in silence and the more time that passes, the more the dreaded future sinks back in that no matter what they do, in two days Michael is going to leave.

If they love him (and they do), they need to let him. 

The awful day arrives with perfect blue skies that create a pit in Alex’s stomach. It’s perfect flying conditions, which means that there’s nothing to delay the inevitable.

Today is the day he loses Michael for three years. 

Takeoff is just after midnight when most people will be sleeping and won’t notice that something is leaving the Roswell atmosphere. Alex had spent the day helping Michael with every task, unwilling to be parted from his side now that there’s so few hours left. He drags him in for frantic, lingering kisses. Every time Michael asks for a hand, Alex will press up against him so he can run the tip of his nose over the heat of Michael’s neck, pressed flush against his body. He tells him he loves him a dozen times before noon, then does it again in the afternoon. When Michael runs through his checklist, Alex absently plays the guitar by him, thinking about the first time he’d helped Michael to learn and how he swore he’d felt a spark when his fingers had pressed to Michael’s over the strings.

It’s gutting to be doing this, but it’s also strangely empowering in a way. Michael keeps looking at him, sneaking glances. For every ‘I love you’ that Alex gives, Michael gives one back (sometimes sealed with a kiss), and he absently sings along when he knows the song Alex is playing. 

Michael’s leaving, but that doesn’t make what they feel any less powerful. He might be going, but Alex is more convinced than ever that he’s going to come back. 

That doesn’t make it any easier when it’s five minutes to launch and Michael is grabbing his things, putting the last of the bags in the ship. That’s the moment reality hits like a two-by-four smacking him in the face, when he has to shed that last ounce of denial and admit that Michael’s not going to stay.

Alex hasn’t left the yard, but he’d grabbed a blanket after the sun had gone down. Now, it’s wrapped around him like it’s a worthy substitute for Michael’s body wrapped around him and it’s so pathetically not. He’s bleary-eyed because he’s been crying for almost an hour, but he’s not so sure that he could stop even if he tried.

Michael’s not much different. For the last half an hour, they’ve been making out near the back porch while Mara prepared some of his bags, with Michael tugging on the blanket to pull Alex towards him, even if they’re both sobbing too much for the kisses to be anything but clumsy, messy things. Then, Michael had apologetically backed away to turn on the engines before climbing down the ladder to go through his checklist. 

Mara stands at Alex’s side, now, and she’s not crying, but she looks plenty distraught. 

He turns away to give Michael a chance to talk to his mother and say goodbye. She holds up her glowing hand to his, with Michael slotting his fingers between hers. Whatever secrets they need to share, they tell one another in that mental space. Alex uses the time to steel himself for what’s coming next.

That moment happens too soon. 

Michael slips away from his connection with his mother, embracing her tightly before leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek. Then, he slides away and drifts to Alex’s side.

They’ve said everything that needs to be said about their feelings for one another, which means it’s time for the one thing they’ve been avoiding -- saying goodbye to each other. 

“Take care of my mom for me, okay?” Michael murmurs as he presses a soft kiss to Alex’s neck, drifting into his arms. “I already asked her to take care of you.”

Everything is so chaotic in those moments. Alex is trying desperately to touch every single inch of Michael’s body, kissing him as much as he can without embarrassing himself in front of Mara, whispering that he loves him and he’ll write (even if he can’t send the letters) and he’ll miss him every day. It feels like he’ll never have enough time, so he needs to focus on what’s important.

Holding Michael by the shoulders, he needs to start putting some distance between them.

“You’re gonna do incredible things for them,” Alex says, forcing himself to take a page from Mara’s book. He loves Michael and he needs to make this easier on him, not harder. “I’m so proud of you for going back and I know you’re going to change the world,” he guarantees. “Even if we’re not talking every day, I’ll know it,” he says, with smooth confidence he feels to his bones. “I love you, Michael Guerin, and I’m gonna be waiting for you when you come back.”

“You’d better be,” Michael insists, but he looks a little less miserable. “I love you too, both of you,” he says, with a fond look towards his mother. “Thank you for giving me the three best years of my life. Thank you,” he says, a little softer as he takes Alex’s hand in his to tug him closer for a kiss that feels like it could last an eternity and it still wouldn’t have lasted long enough. “Thank you for loving me,” he adds, with the sweetest smile that makes Alex melt, “and I’ll be sure to bring you back a souvenir.” 

Alex shakes his head. “I don’t want a souvenir,” is his steely-eyed insistence. 

He means what he says next with all his heart.

“All I want is _you_.”

Michael nods, like he’s taken that feedback to heart, drifting back. His fingers slide over Alex’s palm until he’s out of his reach, climbing into the ship. Mara pulls Alex back towards the back porch, which he assumes is a safe distance. 

The sound of the ship leaving is quieter than Alex would have expected, but he knows once it hits the atmosphere, it will punch through with a loud crash. He and Mara stand side by side as they watch Michael leave the planet, but Alex turns away before he can fully depart the atmosphere, not sure he can watch Michael leaving like that. Then, with a near-deafening sound that likely woke everyone in the vicinity, Michael is gone.

Alex doesn’t feel like he’s lost a part of himself, he doesn’t feel like his heart is empty, but he does feel like he’s opened a wound that will be hard to heal. He’s numb to anything else, unmoving. Mara doesn’t go either, and they stand there as the sun rises and the last stars dwindle from sight, with Alex wondering which of them belongs to Mara and Michael. 

Eventually, they need to move. They need to keep on living.

“Come on,” Mara says, wrapping her arm around Alex’s shoulders. “I’ll make breakfast.”

He heads inside after one last moment staring at the sky. 

Three years. For Michael, he knows he can do it, because he knows that there’s no one who can make him feel that kind of love. Until then, he’s got Mara to think about and his own life, because the sun still came up today and will still set tonight. The world will keep on moving, whether Alex likes it or not, and he won’t get swept away waiting for Michael to come back to him.

* * *

For a few weeks, Alex doesn’t change his routine. The bed's too big and cold at night, meals seem empty without Michael’s loud presence, but he and Mara develop new traditions. They watch movies on Fridays, they get milkshakes on Saturday, and Alex visits Maria at the Pony so he doesn’t go crazy while Mara and Mimi connect over the latest pieces they’ve each found. 

Maria’s the one who suggests that he picks up another job on top of the music to keep him busy and distract him from Michael’s absence. “You could help tend bar?” she’d suggested. 

“I’m kind of underage.”

She gives him a look in reply that says so is she. That said, for all that Jim is willing to look the other way for Mimi’s kid, he’s not so sure that he wants to tempt fate. The last thing he needs is for Jim to go and tell his family where he’d found Alex and for Jesse to break the truce that seems to be holding to come after him. 

What he really needs is the kind of job that gives him some autonomy back. For the last little while, things keep happening _to_ him and he can’t even fight to change it. Michael had left and despite Alex pleading for him not to, he’s still not there. He can’t do anything about making sure Michael keeps his promise and comes home.

It’s left Alex feeling powerless and he needs to reclaim it.

“I’m thinking I’ll head to the job fair in Santa Fe, see if I find anything that fits,” he says, because he knows he’ll still write music no matter what. Now that he’s started that career, he knows he doesn’t have to stop, but he does need something that gets him out of the house.

He really might go stir-crazy if he doesn’t.

“Call me after, tell me what you decide!”

Alex doesn’t really have any main goal in mind when he goes into Santa Fe in Michael’s truck, which belongs to him now, inherited when Michael left the planet -- he’d also taken possession of the bed, the guitar, and all the other possessions he couldn’t bring back with him. 

Once he gets to the job fair, he mostly drifts aimlessly through the room, quickly ruling out a few possibilities. 

The hospitality industry is a poor option, given Alex’s tendency to judge people. He’s not sure he has the qualifications to work in a bank, and most of the other jobs require a college degree that Alex isn’t sure he’s going to get. He hasn’t ruled it out just yet, but at the same time, if he can make something of himself with his music, he won’t need to.

Unfortunately, the music alone isn’t a career right now. 

At the very end of the row of booths, there’s one for the Air Force. It feels odd to be drawn to it after how many years he’d spent struggling to escape it. Then again, he’d been fighting it then because it had been Jesse’s path for him. Now, he’s looking for something that will give him some control over his life and that will allow him to spend the next few years fighting instead of letting the fight beat him back.

It’s why he spends an hour there, talking about opportunities, filling in a form while he does. The recruiter talks about the ability to get a degree, that he could write music during his down-time, and the doors it would open.

Alex is thinking about how it would make the three years go faster, and the thought of his family is in the back of his mind. It would put him back into contact with them, but maybe that’s not the downside that he thought it would be before. If he can show them what he’s made of himself, maybe it’s a chance to hold it over their heads.

“Thanks,” he says, the form not finished, but more done than any other application he’d picked up today. “I’ll definitely think about it,” he promises the recruiter, as he leaves for the day.

He goes home with pamphlets from the job fair and sets them on the table to read at dinner, but Mara gets to them before he can. She seems to approve of all of them, but she stares at the Air Force recruitment papers a little too long, which makes Alex feel guilty, because he’d already started to fill them out and he can see the way her eyes linger on his name in block letters on the application.

“Alex,” she says in that too-calm way that Alex kind of worries means something bad is about to happen (then again, his own family history kind of did that damage). “If you enrolled, wouldn’t that put you right back with your father and your brothers?” 

It would. 

Honestly, Alex had only started filling out the papers because of some prideful and insistent voice in his head that angrily demanded that he could show up and shove his father’s face in how happy he is now that he has a new family, someone he loves, and a place where he feels safe. It had been the voice that told him that three years in an active, dangerous job would mean that he wouldn’t have to spend every day depressed about Michael being gone.

He hadn’t exactly thought very far past that.

He hadn’t thought about prolonged and required contact with his father that he couldn’t escape. He didn’t think about how it would mean leaving Mara, or even the fact that a dangerous deployment could mean that he doesn’t come back. 

“You know Michael wouldn’t want you to do this,” Mara says gently. 

Alex feels like he’s been struck, because the thought of Michael being disappointed with him nearly guts him. He knows that Michael wouldn’t want it, that he’d only been trying to get some control back, and he falters then.

“I need to feel like I’m in control,” Alex protests. “I thought…” He stares at the application and the reality of what he’d been about to do hits him. His father, his brothers, the life he’d been running from his whole life and in a moment of desperation, he’d nearly brought it onto himself all because he needed to feel something other than a victim. He’s shaking, slightly, his hands pressed to the table to stop it.

What had he been thinking?

Clearly, he hasn’t been.

“Rip it up, please,” Alex begs, because he doesn’t want it in a drawer or anywhere that he could even consider finishing it.

Mara looks beyond relieved as she takes the application and rips into it with a great degree of vindication, like she’d been planning to do that whether or not Alex had given her permission. He’s still shaking as she comes around to hug him and press a kiss to the top of his head. “You are in control,” she promises. “Michael was going to leave whether he met you or not, but what you control is what you do over the next few years. You know he wanted you to follow your dreams, which means that if you do want to get another job, you should get it in town, somewhere that will allow you some flexibility to pursue them. Take control of that,” she says. “The rest will follow.”

Maybe that’s what the next three years should be. He needs to stop thinking about this as waiting and more about it as a chance to prepare. Michael is going to come back and Alex will need to be ready for him. They can’t live in Mara’s house forever, not if they’re going to be serious about one another, and that means Alex needs a plan.

He takes one last look at the ripped papers, breathes out, and resets.

“Thank you,” he says, even if he still feels a little lightheaded for what would have happened if it hadn’t been for a little sense. He nearly made a huge mistake and owning up to that is hard. 

She nods, giving him a kiss to the top of his head. “You’re welcome. I have to take care of you, don’t I? Sometimes that means putting a big mirror in front of you that reminds you of the reality of things.”

Alex throws out the shreds of paper, but he also puts all the other job applications in the trash along with them. He can’t go looking for another job in an industry that will take away time from him pursuing his dream. Alex knows he’s talented enough to make it big writing songs for artists, if he just dedicates the time he needs to the task. It’s true that he’ll need some extra cash along the way, but he knows what to do about that.

After all, a friend has already helpfully given him a solution in that regard.

That night, he calls her up, feeling optimistic about the next three years for the first time since Michael left.

“Hey, Maria. That job offer still open?”

Maybe he doesn’t need to pick a fight to win one. Maybe surviving is just as important as finding some invisible enemy out there that he can defeat just to make himself feel better.


	13. Chapter 13

After months of travel, Michael arrives home to a welcoming party waiting for him beside the landing ramp.

It’s so different from the quiet night he’d arrived on Earth that it almost shocks Michael to see the group there to see him. He can see family and staff waiting for him, but on top of that are the well-wishers lingering to try and snap a picture of the returning prince. They’re being kept back by a barrier, with a few guards standing in front of it.

In front of everyone stands Max and Isobel, both of them grinning as soon as Michael ducks out of the ship. The both of them look every bit the part of the regal adults they’ve turned into. It’s been three years since he’d seen them in person and when he’d left, they’d all been teens.

They’re all grown up now.

Max has filled out pretty admirably and Isobel is doing something new with her hair. It’s parted, but there are colorful streaks through it. He drops his bags in the ship, vaulting out so he can sprint down the ramp and practically jump into Max’s arms to hug him, burying his face in Max’s neck and then turning so he can do the same to Isobel.

“Fuck, I missed you guys so much,” he babbles, grabbing Max by the shirt to haul him in so they can have a good old-fashioned three-way hug. “I hate how infrequently we get to talk and I missed you guys to the point it felt like I had a hole, there’s so much I have to tell you and…”

“Michael,” Isobel protests, coughing melodramatically. “You’re squeezing...the life…”

Max rolls his eyes, but Isobel pinches Michael mentally and he yelps as he eases off, laughing as he presses his forehead to Isobel’s, then to Max’s. With a few deep breaths, he grounds himself in the love they have for him, and he knows that while they’re definitely putting on a show for the royal stalkers nearby, it’s exactly what he needs.

“Your Dad’s busy with meetings,” Max says apologetically, “but he said that if we take you out to lunch, he should be ready after. So, what are you craving?”

“Anything with meat,” Michael protests. “I love Mom’s cooking, but she has some vendetta against earth meats.” His stomach growls because he wants nothing more than a Crashdown burger, but he can’t have that, so he’ll have to settle for Antar’s finest. He’d tried to get Arturo to tell him the secret spice blend before he’d left, but the man had insisted that he couldn’t give away all his secrets.

Two years and nine months until he gets to eat another Crashdown burger. That’s if everything goes right over the next little while and Michael can actually go through with his plans.

Max glances to Isobel, which clearly means that their twin-thing is still going on. “I’ll let them know we’re coming,” she says, and focuses intently to send a message, all while Max hauls Michael in for another hug.

For all that he’s going to miss Alex’s hugs, there’s something about being in Max’s arms that’s beyond comforting and reassuring. He’s always seemed to have his shit together, which is a good thing because he’s kind of first in line once his parents go. Michael’s just glad that he’s way down the line, especially because that means he shouldn’t be rocking the boat too violently when he signs his papers.

He doesn’t intend to tell them about that plan today, but if the opportunity comes up, he knows he won’t let it pass by.

Abdication is a topic for a few weeks after you return home. It’s not what you lead lunch with.

Isobel wraps her elbow up in his and tugs him along towards the palace, which makes Michael think about his room back home in Roswell and how _small_ and cozy everything had been. Between Alex and Rover always sharing his bed, space had been a luxury.

Here, there’s more than enough to go around.

“What are we talking about first?” Isobel demands, setting them up in her room once she drags them up. There are cushions on the floor and for the most part it hasn’t changed since the last time Michael was here, but there’s a lot more work on the walls. Schedules, talking points, dresses that need altering. It’s a princess’ room and there’s no missing it. Within minutes of them arriving, a few aides bring in light snacks for their lunch along with drinks for them, promptly leaving them to eat and talk.

Max gives Isobel an amused look. “Tell him about your failed love affair.”

“Do I have to?”

Michael scoffs. “Uh, yeah you do,” he insists. “How come I didn’t get a maudlin phone call?”

“Because Noah’s not worth that,” she says dismissively, waving it away with her hand. “I thought he actually was interested in me, but he just wanted _power_ ,” she drones, in what’s clearly a mocking impression. “Your Dad actually arrested him. Turns out he was working with a group to try and stage a coup, invoke some civil war over powers, if you can believe it.”

Michael can, that’s the issue.

This is why he’d loved Roswell so much, where the biggest drama most days had been about who’d accidentally matched their outfits at school. Here, it’s dramatic and there are heavy consequences where someone you try to date might be after you all because of the power you can grant them and, if successful, could plunge the country into another civil war.

“I take it he’s rotting in a jail cell?”

“Uncle Rath would never disappoint his princess,” Isobel swears, both hands over her heart as she smiles sweetly at him.

Michael makes a face of disgust, even if he’s secretly relieved that his Dad had gone so far to make sure that the asshole had no way of getting out. “You know you’re an adult now, right? You’re nineteen, that face doesn’t work anymore.”

She bats her eyelashes at him, hands under her chin.

“Damn it, Isobel,” Michael whines, because the face is still working.

“I don’t know why you fight it, man,” Max laughs. “We always give in.”

“What about you?” Michael asks Max, feeling weird that their only topic of conversation right now is romance, but it’s better than talking about the stuffy expectations that are on everyone. “You met anyone special yet?”

“He’s been boring and sad since you left,” Isobel answers for him, to Max’s protest. “Tell me I’m wrong,” she challenges Max. “He puts in his work at the palace, then spends his night writing lovelorn poetry about _the one_ who might be out there for him. Then, he reads about the old laws and spends his nights making visits to every charity you can imagine. He’ll be the perfect king. He’ll just be a lonely one.”

Max gives Isobel an annoyed look. “I’m not settling for anyone. When I find the one, I’ll know.”

Clearly, Michael is going to have to get his hands on some of that poetry, but given the look Isobel is giving him, she’s absolutely going to help smuggle some out for him.

He dabs at his mouth with a napkin when he finishes with a few pieces of fruit, knowing that he’s not going to get away with ignoring tales of Roswell for much longer. It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk about it, it’s more that he doesn’t know where he should start. It seems wrong to boil down the last three years to a quick summary, but he also doesn’t want to bore Max and Isobel with it.

“I don’t know about you two, but I think I found mine,” he says, and it surprises him even now to hear how _sure_ he feels about it. “His name’s Alex Manes,” he shares. “He was my first friend on Earth, but he introduced me to the rest of my friends. One of them was an asshole,” he says. “If I could’ve gotten Dad to lock him in a prison, he’d be riding bars beside Noah, but Maria and Liz are amazing.”

He's got both their attention, which means it’s time that he gets honest with them.

“When my time here on the project is done, I’m going back to Earth. I’m going back to him,” he admits, glancing up nervously to wait for their reactions.

What’s kind of shocking is that neither of them looks surprised.

“We sort of figured,” Max admits. “Every communication you sent and every time we spoke, I think you mentioned Alex every other sentence. We made it a drinking game last call.” The green look on his face tells Michael exactly how that wound up going. “Are you sure, Michael? We’re still really young.”

He's not completely sure. Michael doesn’t think he’ll ever be a hundred percent sure, but he knows enough to know that his life is a better one for having Alex in it.

“He’s incredible. I really wanted you both to come and meet him,” Michael admits. “Besides, you guys know that this royalty thing isn’t for me. You and Max,” he tells Isobel, craning his head to the side. “You guys were born for this. I’m the spare. Actually, I’m the spare of the spare of the spare and then keep going,” he lists. “And with Mom already abdicating, I know the advisors would have coronaries if it ever got to me.”

Max gives him a sad look; one that Michael used to be immune to it. Three years away has clearly undone all his defenses.

“Oh, come on, stop,” Michael pleads. “You know I’d never abandon you guys completely,” he insists. “I’m here for another few years, I’ll make it so you’re so sick of me that you want me gone.”

“I mean, it’s only been one lunch and I’m already wondering…” Isobel deadpans.

Michael reaches for his pillow to smack her in the shoulder with it, laughing when she shrieks and then grabs for her own to fight back, Max hurriedly moving the lunch plates out of the way so they don’t break anything (like the responsible asshole prince he is), but eventually Michael grabs him, shouting about two versus one.

It’s like they’re kids again and none of them have to worry about the future.

For all that he’s loved being with Alex and his Mom, there really is no substitute for time with his cousins.

Eventually, Isobel pleads with them to stop. “My hair,” she protests, sniffing as she tries to fix it, even as Michael mocks her by touching his own. “Oh, stop, yours is fine,” she huffs. “Besides, it’s not like your Dad’s even going to notice, but I have to go make an appearance at a local guild talk.”

“Sir,” one of the guards at the door signals. “Your father is ready for you.”

“See? Perfect timing,” Michael says with a gesture.

“Perfect timing would have been before you knocked my hair out of place,” Isobel retorts, but Michael is _so glad_ to be back with them that he forgets his heartache at needing to leave Alex. It’s only for a moment, it’s a blissful one. He pushes his way to his feet, bending to press a kiss to Isobel’s hair (since it’s already ruined), and giving Max a one-armed hug.

He lingers at the doorway, watching them tidy up like the responsible little royals they are.

“I missed you two,” he admits, giving them a fond look before he needs to get moving, knowing that his father’s time is limited and if he misses his window, it could be at least another day before he gets another chance.

The three of them can find time later to catch up on the rest of what they’ve missed, which Michael knows they’ll do plenty of because it will give him a distraction from missing Alex, but now it’s time to see more family.

His second stop takes him to the General’s headquarters.

The aide lets him go in without a warning, which means Michael gets to see the way his father nearly jumps out of his skin when Michael knocks on the door. “Run, it’s the enemy,” he quips, and grins when his father settles his gaze on him.

“Michael!” he says cheerfully, rounding his desk to haul him into his arms, squeezing him tightly enough that he lifts him right off the ground with ease, laughing with delight.

He’s not a kid anymore, he knows, but to have his father embrace him so tightly makes him feel like he’s seven again. Michael scrunches up his face and buries his face in his Dad’s shoulder before he steps back, giving him a pleased smile. “I’ve got letters for you,” he says. “Mom made me promise not to read them, so I can readily say that whatever is in them -- ew, gross,” he deadpans.

He hands them over and his father takes them before sitting behind his desk, a wistful smile on his face as he flips through them.

“How is she? Really,” he asks.

Michael shrugs, not wanting to paint a bleak picture when it’s anything but. “I mean, she’s missing me right now, I’m sure, but she’s got Alex. When I was there, sometimes, I’d catch her with this giant pillow that I think she’s using as your substitute.” He wants his parents to be happy, but this business where they think they can only do that as far apart as they are is ridiculous.

If they love each other, they should be together.

If they don’t, they should stop pretending.

He’s not sure how to approach the topic, because every time he has before, it ends up going badly. If his father were ever going to have merchandise made up for him, his would be a toy with a string at the back that, when pulled, would parrot, “Duty first!”

Michael needs to make sure that he doesn’t stay on Antar long enough that it happens to him. He’d brought enough pictures to keep Alex at the forefront of his mind and it means that he’s never going to let himself forget what’s really important.

“Dad,” Michael sighs. “Is all of this really worth it? The civil war’s been over for decades,” he points out. “Grandma and Grandpa solved that, which means that you could technically put your soldiers in charge of the off-world missions.” That stubborn little voice in his head isn’t shutting up and Michael doesn’t want it to.

It’s the voice that never wants to grow up, and will defend his mother until his dying breath.

“Mom misses you. I missed you,” he says, wanting to use all available firepower. “When I go back to Earth next time, it’s going to be for a lot longer,” he warns, and he might be exaggerating because he’ll absolutely want to visit and bring Alex, but who knows when that will be? “I’m planning to start a life there. It’d be kind of nice to know that doing that won’t estrange me from my father.”

He gives his Dad a tentative, hopeful look.

In reply, there’s the calm and cool exterior of Rath, General of Antar.

“It’s complicated, Michael.”

Michael snorts, shaking his head. “Whatever,” he mutters.

“Do we have to fight about this? You just got back, I had thought to take you out for a celebratory drink!” his father says enthusiastically. “You can tell me about your trip and give me all the intelligence you learned from your time on earth, and the routes back.”

It’s always work, isn’t it?

It might be for his father, but Michael’s not like that. “Sorry, Dad. I promised Mom and Alex that I’d call in as soon as I got in, and I’m not really feeling up for a wild game of Risk tonight.”

He deserves the blank look he gets.

Sighing, Michael gestures wildly. “It’s an Earth game that you...never mind,” he huffs. “I’m going to talk to the people I love, because _they’re_ important to me, no matter how complicated it is.” He’s ready to storm out the door, but stops before he can fully leave, doubling back to give his father an annoyed look. “Don’t talk to me about complicated, okay? I’m light years from Alex and you have no idea what he went through, but we’re still trying. We’re working it out because we love each other and we want to make it work.”

He gives a derisive scoff and levels an annoyed look at his father, trying not to reel it back when he sees what looks like genuine hurt on his face.

“I’ll tell Mom to expect the divorce papers so you can remarry your work.”

“Michael!” his father shouts after him, but it’s too late.

He has better things to do. Michael heads back to his quarters, trying not to rush, but finding it nearly impossible not to as he thinks about what’s waiting for him. Now that he’s home, the only thing that he wants to do is reach back out to the home he left, and he knows that once he gets back to his room, he can do that.

His mother had promised to keep the relay open, even though it would drain power, during the window that Michael had provided. He knows that he can’t do this that often, but he thought it was important to connect back home so that he could talk to Alex and promise that he’d landed safely. Not only that, but he wants to show Alex a little of his home away from home; the planet that will be Michael’s home for the next three years.

Michael spends no more than a few minutes tidying up his room. The staff have kept it dusted and organized, but he's not sixteen anymore. He sets up his things from the ship here, placing the guitar prominently by the bed, and adding the framed pictures of his Mom, Alex, and all of them in different permutations.

He lets his fingers trail over the one of Alex before he boots up the relay and hopes that it’s not a weird hour back on Earth.

Sitting there, tapping his foot, it takes twenty minutes before there’s someone on the other end of the line. Michael holds his breath and waits to see who it is when the signal bursts to life, showing a vivid three-dimensional view of Alex.

Michael almost cries for the sight of him. It’s only been three months, but he’s so glad to see him again that he nearly loses himself. He presses his lips together and takes in a shaky breath, waving (why is he waving? What? _What_?) before a grin takes over and melts away any of his nerves.

“Your Mom heard the beeping, I just thought it was the oven,” Alex laughs, sounding like he can’t believe that they’re talking. “Michael,” he says, reaching out like he can somehow touch him. “You made it.”

“I did,” he agrees. “Isobel and Max say hi. They want to meet you properly, at some point.”

“Yeah, I wanna meet them,” Alex guarantees. “I have a lot of questions about your childhood that I’m going to need answered.”

Michael groans. “Aren’t the pictures from my mother enough?”

“No, not even with all the copies I’ve made.” Alex looks like he’s been crying or has just started crying, but whatever it is, it’s setting Michael off. “I know it’s only been a few months, but I miss you like crazy. I got a job at the Pony,” he shares, with a laugh of disbelief. “Maria brought in Coyote Ugly nights, so she’s got me dancing on a bar every Friday.”

“Please tell me someone is video-taping this,” Michael begs, and his grief at being so far away is the only thing that tempers the sudden flush of desire that hits him at the image of Alex moving his hips to music on top of a bar. He can’t exactly stifle the low groan he lets out, but it’s been a long journey and he’d been busy.

He and his hand didn’t get much time together, that’s all he’s saying.

Alex gives him a fond smile. “Maria’s keeping video files as mementos, but I know they’re blackmail.” He reaches out, but no matter how far Michael reaches back, there’s no warm hand to hold -- only the relay for his fingers to travel through. “You look tired. Are you okay?”

“Long day,” Michael admits, rubbing his palm over his face. “Long few months,” he corrects himself. “I had to adjust a few systems on the way in, then I took a small detour at Dad’s request for information. The moment I landed, I got the welcome wagon, had lunch with the cousins, and had a fight with Dad.”

“You fought with your Dad?” Alex sounds alarmed. “Did he…?”

“Shit. Alex, no, not like that,” Michael rushes to assure him. “He keeps putting duty and Antar above his own family,” he says quietly, wishing it didn’t hurt so much to realize that his own father would rather see his lieutenants off on successful missions than his own son in a happy relationship. “Mom tries to insist that they’re better off apart, but it’s been six years. I think she got good at lying about it so it doesn’t hurt when he won’t visit.”

Worse, when he won’t leave to be with her.

“That’s not going to be me,” Michael vows, as serious as he ever gets. “Alex,” he says, and he meets Alex’s gaze for these next words. “I am coming home to you. There is nothing here that matters more to me than being with you.”

He can tell that Alex is visibly affected by that proclamation, but is trying to hold back. Michael doesn’t want him to, though.

“I love you,” he says. “I love you more than the Antarian royal requirements, I love you more than our science program, and even though I’ll never say it in front of them, I love you more than Max and Isobel.” He reaches out and wishes he’d invented some kind of program that gave matter to these relays, because he’d give anything to be holding Alex’s hand right now. “I am coming back to you.”

“Good,” is Alex’s determined and fierce reply, which settles a lot of worries in Michael’s head. He’d been freaking out that as soon as he left, Alex would see that he’s better off without him, but it looks like that’s not the case. “When you get back, we’re going to have our own life. You’re not following anyone’s decrees or proclamations. You’ll be you, I’ll be me, and together, we’ll figure it out, like two normal young adults.”

It sounds like they’re in for a lot of pain and a lot of adventure at the same time.

“Two years and nine months,” Michael says with a heavy sigh.

“Right,” Alex agrees. “So make sure you get everything done that you need to, because once you’re back here with me, you owe me a kiss for every night you’ve been gone.”

It’s over a thousand kisses that Alex is asking for, but Michael knows that getting home is the most important thing to him, because all he thinks about is how a thousand seems _way too small_ a number.

He’s got his priorities in order, and that’s the only thing that matters.

“I love you,” Alex tells him, when the connection has to be cut off. “I’m waiting for you.”

Alex’s face flickers out of sight, leaving Michael sitting alone on his bed and staring into the spot that Alex’s face used to occupy. “I’m coming home for you,” he tells him, even though he can’t hear. This is for Michael, to get him through the coming months. “Keep waiting.”

* * *

It’s been six months since Michael left them.

For the most part, Alex is doing better than he expected. The job at the Pony works wonders, even if he’ll never admit that out loud to Maria, because then she’d get that smug look on her face and she’ll start saying things like “I told you so”. The Coyote Ugly night that involves Maria dancing on tables and soon includes Alex ends up being a genuine success, even if Wyatt and Hank _loathe_ it (and why Alex adores it). He increases the frequency of open mic nights so he can test out his material, which helps to sell songs a lot faster seeing as he has an audience to test them out on.

During the day, he finds that he needs to fill the hours, so he enrolls in a few computer science courses, learning that coding and programming is sort of like writing music, and he occupies himself with writing programs and helping with some of Mara’s projects to give himself more experience.

Every week, he writes a letter to Michael and then seals it up in a drawer. They’re for when he gets back, so he won’t miss a single thing that’s happened on earth while he’s been gone. In another drawer, there’s a slowly growing stash of money that goes along with his bank account. It’s steadily growing and with it, so is Alex’s confidence that he can make it through the next two and a half years.

It’s not all easy, though.

As he’d predicted, Jim Valenti finds out about Alex working at the Pony and drops by to have a conversation with Mimi. Alex doesn’t hear most of it, but he catches the way they keep looking his way through it. Jim says nothing to him and leaves, but Alex has the sinking sensation that Jesse Manes is going to find out about this sooner rather than later.

It turns out that he’s not wrong.

The next morning, Alex wakes up to raised voices in the front hall. He’d been up until four helping to close down the bar and it’s barely nine now, so he’s exhausted and it takes him a moment to process the chilling fact that he can hear Jesse’s voice inside the walls of Mara’s house.

“He’s my son, you have no right to have him here.”

Alex creeps towards the door, grabbing one of Michael’s hoodies to tug on. It’s like armor, as though Michael can still protect him, even though he’s far off world. What he finds when he peers around the corner and down the stairs comes straight from a nightmare, but he can’t pinch himself awake, so he might have to accept it for reality.

Jesse Manes is standing inside the Guerin household, shouting at Mara. For a moment, panic overrides his brain and he thinks about the worst case scenarios that could have led to this. Did he threaten Mara? Did he push his way in? Does Jim Valenti know he’s here and did he help?

“He’s a grown man,” Mara calmly replies, and Alex wants to scream and tell her that Jesse doesn’t respond to logic.

He needs to go, he needs to get as far away from here as he can. It’s old instincts driving that fear, but they’re so hard to ignore.

“I think we should let him make his own decisions, which happens to be that he wants to stay here, with me,” Mara continues and though she still sounds as calm as ever, Alex feels his stress levels rising.

This won’t end well. It’s the nightmare that he’s been dreading for over a year (since he first moved in with the Guerins) and it looks like Alex’s new occupation is all it takes for it to have happened. He should have never started working at the Wild Pony, he should have been more adamant about it being a bad idea, he should have...he should…

Maybe he should stop pretending that he can control Jesse Manes at all. It’s a sobering thought that surfaces through his fear, but it’s enough to shake him from the downward spiral he can feel himself diving into.

“...he’s thriving with us,” he tunes in to hear Mara speaking, still trying to convince Jesse. “I think it’s best that we let Alex decide what he wants.”

“Alex doesn’t know what he wants, but I do. You’re not taking my son from me,” Jesse warns, his voice low. Alex knows that tone, because he's heard it a thousand times before.

That snaps him from his inaction. Alex is terrified of what that tone of voice means, which means that he’s not going to stand there and let his father do anything to anyone. Not this time, not anymore. He rushes down the stairs frantically, but he’s still too late. By the time his foot hits the bottom step, Jesse’s already pinned Mara to the wall with a hand around her neck. Alex feels paralyzed by the sight because he’s _been_ there. When Jesse had found out about Alex’s crush on Kyle, when he’d seen texts between him and other boys, when Alex refused to lie about who he was.

Jesse’s hand had been around his throat and he knows exactly what it feels like to be on the receiving end of that hatred. Now, that hand is on Mara’s throat and it snaps something in Alex.

His pained howl of grief feels guttural, like he’s finally releasing some of the anguish that’s been bottled up in him for _years_. “Don’t touch her!” he screams at his father, getting in the middle of them so he can shove his father off of Mara, feeling braver and stronger than he ever has before, even though he’s trembling with fear as he puts space between them and Jesse.

The look his father gives him might be fury personified.

“Think about what you’re doing, Alex. Think about the choices you’re making.”

He feels Mara holding onto him, an arm wrapped around him and it gives him the strength he needs. He’s almost folded more than once since Michael’s left, but the last few minutes has made it abundantly clear that there is no place for him in a home with Jesse Manes, because the monstrous things that he’s capable of are not things that Alex can condone.

He’s escaped and he’s no prize to be carted back.

“I made my decision. Do you want it in writing? Because I can do that, too,” Alex says, his tone ice-cold, and that’s when he knows that he is going to end up signing papers that divorce him from the Manes family now and forever. He might keep the name, if only because having Michael come home to find out that he’s Alex Guerin might be raining on his parade, if only a little.

Assuming, of course, that Michael will still want him when he gets back.

Not to mention, making the huge assumption that they’re going to take that next big step.

It’s a name, though. What’s more important is getting Jesse out.

“Leave,” Alex snaps, “and don’t ever come back here, or I’ll call the cops on you. If Jim won’t do anything, I will call in the goddamn national guard, if that’s what it takes.” He stands up straight and he feels as powerful as he ever has, like he’s discovered a latent power for standing up to his father when he needs to. “I don’t ever want to see you in my family’s house again.”

It’s clear that the words are destroying Jesse, but Alex is so far from feeling guilty about it. He’s not about to be manipulated, not anymore.

“You heard him,” Mara says evenly. “Out of my house, before we make you go.”

It’s clear that Jesse doesn’t want to go so easily. He wants to keep fighting, but has sighted the fight for what it is -- a losing battle. He doesn’t say another word when he turns and stalks away from them, slamming the front door behind him so hard that the hinges break (and Alex instantly drifts forward, like he wants to scream at his father some more).

He’ll fix the door later, he tells himself. He’ll fix it, because he has to make up for the damage his father has done, he has to make it better, he has to…

Alex stops that train of thought, because the truth is that he doesn’t need to do anything because of his father, not now. When Jesse’s truck drives off the street and out of earshot, Alex slumps against the wall, in disbelief at what he’d done. He jumps when he feels Mara’s hand on his shoulder, but sinks into it when all his senses tell him that she’s safe.

“Why didn’t you do something with your powers?” Alex asks, staring at the bruise marks on Mara’s neck. She could have pulled him into her headspace or done something to convince Jesse _not_ to hurt her, but she hadn’t. Alex had been the one to fight him off.

Mara gives him a fond look. “I couldn’t risk him finding out,” she admits. Her voice sounds raw and Alex thinks he should make her some tea with honey in it, but he doesn’t think he can move. “Besides, you protected me.”

“It’s my home,” he protests, feeling like he’d brought this on. What he’d done today was the least he could do. “I’m sorry he came here.”

Mara gives him an apologetic look. “It’s not the first time. It’s just the only time he barged in,” she admits. “If he tries again, I’ll slip in his mind, make sure he stops thinking that it’s such a good idea to do that.” She brings Alex into a hug, stroking a hand over his hair. “Are you okay, Alex? Michael would have my head if you weren’t. I’m not sure I’d be okay with it.”

He nods, even though he feels like he’s still in shock.

“I think I need your help with something,” he admits.

“Anything,” is her promise.

That leads to them spending hours driving around to the library to research, then to the lawyers to ask questions and have papers drawn up. He sits with Mara and asks if she’ll be his emergency contact, which she signs willingly, and then they write up a very clear-cut will and testament that cuts out Jesse completely. That last feels morbid, but it needs to be done. They turn those into the lawyers and that leaves Alex with only one big item left.

The next week, Alex files the restraining order papers, since his nineteenth birthday is weeks away and emancipation has long been off the table. He needs to divorce himself from his father in every way possible and the triumphant feeling of signing his name to those papers makes him feel like he’s floating.

Jesse Manes can try and hurt him, but he’s going to have to go through hell to do it.

“Tequila,” Maria announces when he tells her the good news at the bar later that night.

Alex tries to protest, especially when she starts lining up three shot glasses apiece, but he also knows there’s no arguing when Maria makes up her mind. Besides, he kind of does want to celebrate, seeing as this has been a long time coming. After today, Jesse has absolutely no more power over him.

That night, he gets so drunk that he lets Maria convince him to get on a table and dance while she films him. The next morning, he asks Mara if she can help put it on a relay to Michael along with the good news:

_No need to worry about Jesse Manes anymore. I’m free. I’m safe. I can’t wait until you get back. I love you._

There’s two years and six months left before Alex can find out whether he can shed the very last piece of his father’s legacy -- his name -- but he can’t help feeling like it won’t be too hard to convince Michael to take a chance on him like that. He’d just better make sure he figures out the right way to ask that very important question.

* * *

It’s Michael’s birthday in two days, which normally is an exciting time for him.  
  
This year, he’s been feeling despondent and a little quiet about it. For the last few years, he’s had his Mom and Alex to really make the day feel special in ways that he’d never felt on Antar. He knows there’s a feast prepared for him and a grand dance that he’ll be attending later on tonight, but it’s not milkshakes at the Crashdown and it’s definitely not Alex curled up around him, singing him happy birthday in his ear like the world’s sexiest thing.  
  
God, Michael misses him.  
  
Still, it’s not all terrible. He’d received a text relay from his mother with instructions to beef up the comms device on the night before his birthday as there would be an extremely large data packet coming through prior to their talk, so Michael’s been distracted with the work.  
  
It’s just what he needs, and he has to wonder if that isn’t part of his Mom’s gift to him, with her knowing that this year would be hard, being the first year back from Earth.  
  
Michael’s begun to think of it as being away from home, but he genuinely believes that to be true.  
  
Once he has everything ready to go, he turns on the device and sits cross-legged in front of the comms broadcast patiently, hands in his lap as he waits excitedly to see his Mom and Alex for the first time in months (their last call had been eight weeks ago and it could be eight hours and Michael would think it too long).  
  
He’s beginning to honestly wonder how the hell he’s going to survive three years apart.  
  
The feed starts to spur to life, images beginning to appear in blurry form, but Michael hears the tinny sound of music before he sees anyone. Background noise filters in, more than there’d be for the garage, and as the image begins to clear up, Michael can tell that it’s a recorded video and it’s at the Pony.  
  
“Oh, he’s gonna love this,” he hears Maria’s voice behind the recording device.  
  
Michael shifts in his seat, moving to the edge of it as he tries to make out the image as it focuses and becomes less pixelated. The strains of music become a lot clearer, heavy bass thumping as the camera focuses on the bar area.  
  
Suddenly, Michael is understanding who the he is as he watches Alex haul himself onto the bar with straining forearm muscles helping him do it smoothly. That’s Closer by Nine Inch Nails playing, even though Michael can barely hear it over the eager screams of women — what looks like a bachelorette party.  
  
Michael locks eyes with Alex in the video, even though he knows he can’t see him back.  
  
Alex squats, tight jeans straining at the thighs, the tank top he’s wearing along with a long necklace showing gleaming, sweaty skin as he slowly starts to wind his way to his feet, strolling along the bar before he strikes a pose, hands hitting hip bones as he grinds and sways, making a crooking ‘come here’ motion with his fingers the instant the lyrics sing, I wanna fuck you like an animal.  
  
“Oh, fuck,” Michael lets out a ragged cry, the moan drawn out of him.  
  
Alex must know the audience he has, but what’s incredible is that in even under a year, the way Alex moves is so free and fluid, like he doesn’t give a damn what anyone in Roswell thinks. He hears a few slurs being flung at him, but the bachelorette party is clearly in his corner, from the vicious way they defend him.  
  
And given the way he hears Hank yowl with pain, Michael thinks smugly that he definitely got hit.  
  
He watches as one of the girls drapes a feather boa around Alex’s neck (which he ducks to accommodate), before Alex moves along with the music, sliding to his knees so he can lean back until his shoulders are almost pressed to the wooden bar, starting to inch his way back up to the beat. Michael can see the sweat dripping down his temple, and he watches as Alex turns, eyeing the camera again.  
  
He mouths the words, “You get me closer to God,” right at him, and Michael feels shivers go down his spine, knowing those are meant for him.  
  
Alex leans over to take a shot that one of the girls has left out for him, licking his lower lip, rubbing two fingers along the bottom one and sucking them in his mouth before he hops down mid-song, wandering through the bar. Michael can hear Maria laughing on the video, but Michael’s not in a laughing mood right now. Suddenly, the noise from the video dims, which Michael is about to protest and fiddle with the device, but he sees why when suddenly the three-dimensional image fades out and is replaced by Alex sitting in the garage back at home. His heart swells as he looks at him, beating faster as he stares at his handsome boyfriend.  
  
It’s only a shame he’s so far away, because after that video, Michael has things he wants to do to him.  
  
“You know, that’s gotta be classed as some kind of torture,” Michael ekes out, exhausted and mildly upset as he presses the heel of his palm against his cock to try and calm down. “You send me that knowing I’m so far away? At least tell me the bachelorettes behaved with you.”  
  
“It took me days to wash off the glitter, but they let me escape with my dignity,” Alex promises. He looks like he’s just woken up, his hair not styled and swept over his forehead, making him look wildly handsome even though Michael can see the sleep in his eyes. He yearns to reach through the connection and rub it away, but he can’t.  
  
For all that he can talk to Alex, he can’t touch him or be with him the way he wants to — at least, not yet. He’s got plans on how to fix that.  
  
“Happy birthday, Michael,” Alex says, softly and with great tenderness. “I know it’s not the best of gifts…”  
  
“Alex,” Michael cuts him off. “Are you fucking kidding me? I’m gonna download this whole conversation off the server so no one else gets to see it, but so I can watch it on a daily basis. At least once a day.” He might even get to three or four times, thinking about the way Alex’s tongue had touched his lower lip during the video. “I miss you so much,” he tells him. “I wanna be there, so we can go get milkshakes and you can kiss every inch of my body and worship me.”  
  
“Oh, is that what the birthday boy gets?” is Alex’s smug little reply, clearly amused.  
  
Michael isn’t planning to back down. “I mean, it’s what the birthday boy wants.” He goes serious, then, staring at Alex as his face falls. “He only wants you.”  
  
Alex doesn’t say anything, but he holds up his hand. Michael knows he must be missing him just as much and Michael does the same, getting as close as he can without touching (because he thinks it’ll break his heart to push through and only get air instead of the warmth of Alex’s palm).  
  
“You gotta not say those things,” Alex replies, sounding choked up.  
  
Michael understands all too well. He doesn’t want the big lavish banquet or whatever expensive gift Isobel has planned for him. He wants one specific thing and that’s Alex, but he’s not going to get him in his bed or be able to hold Alex flush against his body, sliding his palm over his heart. Maybe it’s better to stop cruelly teasing himself.  
  
“Is that what you’ve been doing now?” Michael asks. “Dancing on the bar at the Pony?”  
  
“I wanna hear about you,” Alex protests.  
  
“We’ll get there,” Michael promises, staring at Alex fondly. “We’ve got at least an hour for this call,” he says, grabbing a full body sized pillow to hug to his chest like it can somehow act as a replacement for Alex (even though that’s impossible). “Tell me about Roswell.”  
  
Alex does, for the better part of their hour. He tells Michael about what’s happening at home with him and Mara, he talks about his career both writing music for other artists, his shifts at the music store, and how he’s been picking up more work at the Pony because the tips pay better (though usually not with the locals, which Alex scowls at to say). Michael hears about the letters from Liz and news from Maria.  
  
It all aches in a new way for Michael, who’s never loved anyone like this before. He knows it’ll make them stronger in the end to have this time apart, but right now, he kind of wants to curl up in a ball and cry for how much he misses him.  
  
Michael doesn’t say much about Antar, other than telling Alex about the plans for the night, showing him his suit, and talking about the gifts that he’ll get. By the time he’s rushed through that, the power starts to drain from his room and Michael can’t even begin to imagine what’s happening on the other end.  
  
“When will we get to talk again?” Alex asks, his voice small as the reality sinks in that they won’t get to talk again for a while.  
  
Judging by the schedule of power on Antar, Michael thinks that it’ll be two months, at best. “Eight weeks?” he judges, feeling miserable to say it. “Too long, no matter when it is. I’m gonna bury myself in my projects,” he admits. “It’s still not good enough.” Just like the pillow he’s holding onto isn’t good enough either.  
  
Alex stares at him, like he’s trying to memorize his face, and he sighs when the power over the relay dims again. “I better go, before someone gets suspicious. Happy birthday Michael. I love you, with all of me.”  
  
“I love you too. Take care of Mom, okay? And thank her,” he adds, suspecting that her present to him had been giving him all this time with Alex without intruding. “She’ll know why.”  
  
“I’ll talk to you in eight weeks,” Alex promises, as he leans forward, fingers hovering over the disconnect button. “And I’m gonna love you just as much then as I do now,” he vows, with a fond smile on his face.  
  
“Good,” Michael replies. “Remember that when you’re dancing on bartops.”  
  
He gets one last beautiful, sweet, perfect smile from Alex and then the feed goes dark. Michael’s left alone in his bedroom clutching onto his pillow. He buries his face in it, trying to stem the grief of being away from Alex, but knowing that he doesn’t have to let it hurt him. Instead, he can let it be the main driver for why he needs to wrap things up, abdicate, and get back home.  
  
He’s a genius. If anyone’s going to figure this out, it’ll be him.

* * *

The first year passes slowly, but it passes.

Michael marks it with a call back to Roswell, though his mother apologizes because Alex is on a three-day trip out to California to work with agents and sell some of his songs and they don’t have the power to maintain the relay until he gets back. His work continues and he’s managed to create three new processes and five new inventions by the time the twelve months have passed.

He still has sixteen months before he gets to go back, but he hasn’t signed his abdication papers and he hasn’t started work on the ship. It’s not that he’s putting it off, but he can’t bear to think about having everything done and still having to sit around and wait.

 _That_ sounds like torture.

It’s not exactly on par with the torture he’s experiencing right now, but then, attending royal weddings as Isobel’s sham date had never been his favorite activity even as kids when they’d been paired up together. For a few years, there’d been a truly scary moment when Michael thought the family might insist on trying to get them together, but lucky for them, they’d stopped going down that path.

Now, he still attends them, but at least he’s old enough to sit at a table and enjoy the open bar in a very fine suit.

“Are you seriously going to sit there and sulk all day?” Isobel complains. “You were so much more fun before you went to earth. Did they take all the fun out of you?”

This is probably a mistake. At least when he’s in his lab working, he doesn’t think about Alex every single second, but as part of his duties, he’d agreed to let himself be dressed up to attend the wedding of a few of the noble class. He refuses every offer to dance, even from Isobel at first. While he’s had a glass of sparkling wine, he doesn’t indulge the way he normally would, which means there are no royal antics for people to report on.

“I miss home.”

“You are home, Michael,” Isobel reminds him.

He shakes his head and gives her a pained look. “Not anymore, Iz.” She sits down beside him and gives him an expectant look. “I miss Alex,” Michael exhales. “I miss Mom. I miss going to a diner and eating burgers where no one gives a damn if I drop mustard all over my shirt. I miss being an anonymous nobody. You have no idea how freeing that is.”

Isobel gives him a sad look, reaching for both his hands. “Come on.”

“Iz,” Michael whines. “No.”

“Come dance where we won’t have people listening to you being a sad sack.”

He lets her tug him to his feet, trudging to the center of the room where everyone cedes the floor to the princess and prince, giving them a space near the center and enough distance that no one is going to hear their words. He presses a respectful hand to her waist, shaking his head. “We could have just gone in your mental headspace.”

“You hate when I do that,” Isobel counters. “You want to be able to lie to me.”

“Fib creatively,” he protests, but starts an easy waltz to the music, his posture perfect as he goes through the motions of a dance he learned when he was only four. “Look, I’m sorry that I’m not fun to be around, but I’ve got a lot to think about.”

“You leaving us forever.”

“It’s not forever,” Michael argues, even though it’s defensive and he’s not really sure what it’ll be.

It's clear from the look on Isobel’s face that she’s not buying it. “Right,” she deadpans. “So, even though you want to do the thing you want to with your papers and you fell in love with an earth boy who’s currently developing a career back on his home planet, you think you could persuade him to come to an alien planet, even though your mother would never lift up her roots and join you.”

She turns them and pivots so that she can adjust their hand positioning to take the lead herself. Michael has a feeling that the guilty feeling is on his face, given Isobel’s triumphant look.

“Thought so,” is her sad reply.

“That doesn’t stop you and Max from visiting me. Us visiting you,” he says, after a long beat of dancing and silence. “I’d miss you guys way too much. Maybe we could even invent some kind of better relay so we don’t have to drain the power of a whole city just to talk,” he confesses, and he hates that he has to choose. “I mean, earth is a partnered colony. Technically,” he quips, “it’d be royal business for you to visit. They do that on earth all the time. The royals go down to the furthest colonies and make sure everything’s still good.”

“Visits or not, you’re going back and you’re not coming back to us permanently, are you?”

Michael bows his head and wishes that he could disagree, but she’s pretty much got it. He twists his signet ring on his pinky, knowing what he intends to use it for when he gets back. He has it all planned out.

None of it involves a future on Antar.

“I thought I was supposed to be here to help you find eligible men,” he tries to swerve the topic to something less massively depressing.

Isobel glances around to the talent pool, giving a hum of consideration. “I see at least one cute one,” she says, and turns them so Michael can see an approaching guard who looks a little older than them with sandy blond hair and admittedly cute grey-blue eyes. He’s also looking pretty intent on Michael, so he’s got a bad feeling that he’s not going to be Isobel’s next dance partner.

When he gets closer, he’s definitely not interested in Isobel, given his full attention on Michael.

“Sir,” one of the guards interrupts the dance. “You’re needed.”

Isobel gives him a squinty, disbelieving look. “Seriously, Michael? You had your father give you an out?”

He squawks in protest, his hand still on Isobel’s back as he dances with her. “No,” he protests, because as much as he might not want to be here, he’s also not the kind of asshole who’d bail on her so easily. “What’s going on?” he asks the guard irritably, because he got all fancy and dressed up. There better be a crisis.

“Your father is in your room. He has something to discuss with you.” He bows his head, but is clearly waiting for Michael to leave with him.

Sighing, Michael gives Isobel an apologetic look. “Oh, go,” she says, dismissing him with a wave of her hand. “You’re not being any fun and I’d rather have a man who actually wants to dance with me on my arm. Who knows? Maybe tonight’s the night I’ll meet someone as charming and handsome as your earthling.”

He presses a kiss to her hand and gestures to dismiss the guard, still feeling incredibly awkward about it. Those papers sitting in his desk need to get signed, because he’s feeling less like a prince of Antar by the day. Before he leaves, he doubles back (to the chagrin of his escort, who pinches the bridge of his nose like he knows what’s coming).

If he’s gotta go out, might as well do it with a bang.

“How could you, Princess?” he shouts, as over-dramatic and heart-wrenching as he can manage, winking at Isobel before he lets his face fall into the heartbreak he means to portray. “You’re the sweetest and kindest and most beautiful woman here, and even when you tell me that you cannot love me, you’re so gentle and giving!”

Isobel does her part, preening and looking humble (as if), which Michael takes as his cue to exit with one last parting shout over his shoulder.

“Hopefully, in this crowd, some man will treat you right!”

With that, he flings himself away, enduring the disbelieving look of the young guard who’s been in his father’s service long enough to know exactly how cutting and sharp Princess Isobel can be, but most of the men at that reception don’t.

“Gentle,” is all the guard echoes.

“She can be gentle,” Michael protests, before he heads back upstairs to his room. “At first, at least.” He claps the guard on the back, giving him a bright look. He’s handsome enough, why not encourage a little mischief. “I bet if you head back there, you could take my place on the dance floor and see how gentle she might be with you?”

The guard splutters, but it’s just the distraction Michael needs to pull away from him and make the rest of the journey alone. He yanks his suit jacket off as he walks, taking his time, knowing his father will be there waiting for him.

Even with that looming over him, all Michael can think about is Alex. He wants to think about Alex dressed to the nines and going to weddings with him, dancing with him, how handsome he’d have looked. He wants to think about how he and Isobel would get along like a house on fire, sitting in a corner and taking apart anyone who had the nerve to dress in less than their best.

He wants to picture Alex sitting on the stage and playing guitar, singing to a whole crowd of strangers, yet making them fall in love with him. Fuck, he misses Alex.

When he gets back to his quarters, his father really is there and he’s reading the file of papers that he’d had the advisors prepare for him. Michael knows what they say and he’s already had multiple discussions with his father about his plan for the future. With thoughts of Alex still so fresh in his mind, he’s definitely not in the mood for whatever this is.

Still, yanking his bow tie out, he scowls. “Making up for lost time by spying on me?”

“I sent my guard after you over an hour ago. I was beginning to think that you weren’t going to come.” His father relinquishes the papers and perches on the desk as he studies him. “I wanted to come and talk to you.”

Michael protectively moves in front of the file, because he doesn’t want to put them at risk.

“Talk,” he scoffs. “Every time you take me to lunch or we talk, it ends in another argument. I had a shitty night, Dad,” he protests, dropping the tie on the desk. “I missed Alex and all I wanted was to be able to have a date with him and I can’t, because it’s a year away.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling way too old given that he’s only twenty-one.

There’s a lot of heat on his shoulders to finish his projects with an end date in sight, he’s missing Alex more furiously than ever, and he genuinely thinks he might just take his cock off with the amount of jerking off he’s been doing to Alex’s picture. He’s not so sure he can sit here and take yet another argument with his father about how Michael is disappointing the family by not doing his duty.

He rubs his eyes, waiting for his Dad to say something, but when he peers at him, he’s being uncharacteristically quiet.

“You were right.”

It’s so soft that Michael thinks he made them up. Besides that, his father actually admitting defeat? The great General Rath does not ever admit to defeat, he’s too mighty and strong for that. He’s not the tired looking man sitting on the edge of Michael’s bed, his shoulders slumped, and looking like he’s a half second away from having a breakdown that will send Michael to therapy.

“Come again?”

“You were right about myself and your mother,” Rath sighs, gesturing towards him. “I see it now. You spend every day worried about Alex, thinking about him, wanting to be home to him. I allowed my marriage to drift to the point that I think a call every month is acceptable and it’s not. You’re right that if we want this to keep going, then something needs to change.”

Michael sits up a little straighter as he begins to feel solid vindication that he’d managed to get through to his Dad, but, “Wait. What does this mean?”

“I hope you don’t intend to play sad pining music the whole way back.” His father gives him a wry smile, and Michael’s heart pounds against his chest as he thinks that he knows what’s happening and he couldn’t be _happier_. “I’m coming with you, to see Mara, to figure out how to reconnect and to be a family again. That is, if you’ll have me?”

Michael pushes off from the desk to tackle his Dad with a hug that gets them both on the sprawling bed, laughing as he lies on his back and stares at the ceiling. His mind is already racing. “I’ll have to recalibrate the fuel needs and the course and adapt for extra material,” he natters, “and you’ll need a suit and some gifts and definitely at least six years’ worth of apologies, but yeah. Yeah!”

He’s been dying for his family to come to Earth, but this means the world to him because it’s his Dad.

“And,” he adds, tender and nervous, “you can even meet Alex.”

“I look forward to that very much,” his father says, which only excites Michael further. “I’ve already let some of my close staff know the plan,” he continues as he stands to adjust his jacket. “Let me know if you need any materials or permissions to accommodate my presence.” He reaches down to tap the papers on the table, heading out of the room. “If he’s what you love more than anything else in the world, then sign them, Michael.”

He gives a bittersweet smile.

“I did it for your mother, after all.”

He goes with that, leaving Michael to stare after his father with no small heaping of respect and awe. It’s better than he could have ever imagined. His father is coming back with him and he’ll have a chance at a real family again, along with Alex at their sides. It’s the perfect family portrait that he never thought could exist and he’s getting a chance at it.

That’s the night Michael finally takes pen to paper and signs his abdication papers. He brings them to the royal court and gives them absolutely no argument as he tells them that he is officially stepping out of the royal line.

He goes back to his lab and digs out the blueprints for his ship.

There might be a year to go, but he’s got planning to do in order to get himself home.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may notice that there are sixteen chapters of this now. Why, you ask? Well, because this reunion grew to a length that did not make sense with the other two scenes in this part, so they're going to be the new chapter 15 and it'll wrap in 16, but I hope you enjoy the surprise expansion.

Alex wakes up on the morning of his twenty-first birthday and when he passes the window, there’s an intimately familiar sculpture sitting in the backyard. It takes him a moment to shake off his dreams, rub his eyes, before he realizes that it’s not some art installation.

It’s Michael’s ship. He’s not due back for a few weeks, but it’s absolutely and completely Michael’s ship, which means that _Michael’s home_.

He bolts out of the bedroom and makes it to the hall before he remembers that he’s only wearing a pair of Michael’s boxer-briefs and that’s not really appropriate table wear (Mara has standards and she’s made that plenty clear over the last few years). As he’s hopping into a pair of jeans, he can hear Mara and Michael’s voices downstairs, along with a third man’s that he doesn’t recognize.

He yanks a t-shirt from the dresser’s edge on his way out of the room, bounding down the stairs as fast as he can. 

It’s a miracle that he doesn’t trip, honestly. 

He comes to a stop at the bottom of the stairs and sees Michael sitting between his mother and a man who has to be Rath, because he looks so similar to Michael that there’s no way he isn’t. It hasn’t been three whole years and Michael is back early, on his _birthday_ , and that can’t be a coincidence.

He watches the way Mara gently presses a hand to Rath’s shoulder, easing the two of them back. Michael raises both of his brows at Alex, slowly getting up from where he’d been sitting. “I didn’t want to wake you up,” he admits. “You looked so peaceful when I stuck my head in, and…”

“Shut up,” Alex gets out, the word barely more than a sob. He storms across the kitchen so he can grab Michael by the waist, hauling him in for the kiss he’s been meaning to give him since he flew away. He’s furious that Michael didn’t wake him up immediately and he plans to ream him out for it later, but right now he’s too busy wrapping his arms around Michael’s neck to tangle their bodies together.

He walks them a little forward, slamming them both into the breakfast table, which sends all the cutlery rattling. 

It only hits him as he releases Michael that this probably isn’t the best way to meet his boyfriend’s father. Feeling slightly guilty, he ducks his flushed cheeks down and tries to bury his face in Michael’s neck, only Michael turns him towards Rath which means he’s not getting a chance to ignore this and he’s going to be forced to live this down. Alex swallows the worried feeling in his throat and gives the man a dutiful nod.

“Sir,” he greets him, because this is the one chance that he gets to make Michael’s father like him. Well, the second chance, seeing as his first impression on the man is kind of one where he shoved his tongue down Michael’s throat.

Given that he doesn’t really have a father figure in his life right now, he could use one that likes him for who he is and who he loves. Rath looks so much like Michael from the curls to the mischievous glint in his eye, and that likeness extends to the way that he draws moments out, which leaves Alex hanging and waiting to see if he’s actually mad or if he’s just trying to fuck with him. Rath pries his knife from the apple he’s slicing and takes a thoughtful bite of the slice as he studies Alex. 

“I remember when you used to kiss me like that,” he says absently to Mara. “Now we owe our son a show, to embarrass him fully.”

“Dad,” Michael protests, wrinkling his nose. 

Alex is still tangled up in that worry that maybe he hasn’t made the best first impression, because he’s pretty sure you’re not supposed to instantly come off like you want to jump a man’s progeny on your first meeting. He’s definitely humiliated to the point that he is _red_ as a fire engine and he doubts that Rath has the highest opinion of him.

It’s not like he’s shouting at Alex to take his hands off of Michael, though, so it’s already better than Jesse Manes. 

“It’s really nice to finally meet you,” he says dutifully, extending his hand out to Rath.

Rath glances to Mara, then Michael, stepping forward to shake Alex’s hand with the grip of a man who absolutely is trying to intimidate Alex, if only a little. “He’s got more manners than you,” Rath tells Michael, “and we sent you to etiquette school for three years.”

“Can’t teach a broken cart how to roll,” Michael says cheerfully, drawing Alex back when he keeps shaking Rath’s hand _far_ longer than he needs to. He gives Alex an amused smile, rubbing a hand over his back. “Alex and I are gonna go spend the day together, for his birthday,” Michael tells his parents. “If that’s okay with you guys? We can have a family reunion dinner tomorrow, maybe?” 

Mara gives him an encouraging smile. “It’d be nice to have a little time to ourselves,” she admits, and Alex has to admit that he hasn’t seen her like this _ever_. 

In the last three years, she’s been like a mother to him and he’s had a lot of her attention, but she seems almost girlish now in the way she stares at Rath, holding his hand, leaning into him and seeming ten years younger for it. Rath’s no better, staring at her with such affection and adoration that Alex wonders if this is just the glow of love before reality sets in, but for their sake, he really wants to think that it’s real.

That’s also too much thinking about his mother figure and the man who’s ready to romance her with the finest of wining and dining (or so Alex assumes). Alex checks his watch, groaning when he sees the time. “Shit, I told Maria that I’d drop by in the morning so she could see me on my birthday!” he says, and tries to pull himself out of Michael’s hold, but he can’t get loose. “Michael,” he protests with a laugh. “Come on.”

“You seriously think that I’m letting you out of my sight? I’m coming with.” As he pushes Alex towards the door, keys in hand, he leans in so he can whisper. “My parents are reunited for the first time in years. You tell me how _you’re_ feeling at seeing me, then tell me exactly how little I want to be around.”

Alex’s heart thumps in his chest wildly and he knows exactly what they must be feeling. 

“So they want to push you up against the nearest hard surface, go down on you, and then make you beg and come, then come and beg until you forget your name?” 

The keys jangle on the tiles in the foyer when Michael drops them in his shock.

“Michael, you okay, sweetheart?” Mara calls from the kitchen.

Gaping at Alex, Michael stares at him with incredulity. Then he lets out a strangled whimper. “It’s fine, dropped my keys!” he calls back to them.

Alex feels extremely and utterly smug. 

At least, he does until Michael shoves him into the truck, pins Alex down in the front seat, and proves exactly why patience isn’t the strong suit of alien kind (at least, not Michael’s species). Alex doesn’t really get a chance to hold true to his promise, because it seems like Michael’s taken it as a playbook, reminding Alex all about his mouth’s talents as he makes Alex beg, then come, and then beg some more. 

Alex comes three times before they even get the truck in drive, Michael only twice (with an IOU for later). Sitting up, he tries to fix his hair, and he ducks back down rapidly when he _swears_ he sees Rath in the window, waving cheerfully at them while holding a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Shit, shit, _shit_!” Alex hisses.

Michael isn’t even bothering to fix his hair, or button up to hide the hickey on his neck. “See you, Dad!” he says, waving back at him. 

“What is wrong with you?” Alex demands, still slumped over in the seat. 

Michael’s amused look is unfairly hot, especially when he reaches over to rub his palm over Alex’s thigh, gesturing to the clock. “We’ve only been out here like, fifteen minutes. It’s not like either of us are in this for the endurance right now. He was probably with Mom and I doubt he noticed that it’s been that long. Can you please breathe? I only just got back and I’d prefer my boyfriend not exploding into a bunch of stress confetti pieces.”

With a glare, Alex gives Michael a dubious look. “Drive if you want that IOU.”

“I’m just saying,” Michael says, but he very much drives and Alex knows he still has the power here. “Dad’s not thinking it’s that. I mean, don’t go down on me in front of him. He’s progressive, but he might have a few choice comments there, but…”

He trails off because his words grow muffled when Alex claps a hand over his mouth. 

Not enough, because, “If you wanted to shut me up, your cock is way more preferred,” is still completely audible. It’s Alex’s birthday, he’s in a truck with his boyfriend for the first time in three years, his boyfriend’s Dad may have caught them having sex, and it’s still the best day of his whole life. 

Clearly, it’s been a rough go of it. 

“Please tell me that you’ll at least behave for Maria,” Alex pleads, when they arrive at the Wild Pony parking lot. Now that Michael is back, he’ll need to decide what he wants to do about his future when it comes to his career, but he’d rather not lose his job because Michael’s first day back on earth becomes a sex tour of all of Roswell’s Top-Rated Tourist Spots. 

Michael pulls the handbrake and then holds both hands in the air. 

“I swear on my mother’s terrible pottery.”

Alex scrunches up his face as he gets out of the car because, “I like the pottery.” He follows Michael into the Wild Pony, and he waits eagerly for Maria to see just who it is. 

She’s working behind the bar on the books and glances up briefly, clocking Alex. She looks back down, but he sees the moment she figures out that Alex isn’t alone and her double-take is priceless. It’s only a shame that Alex didn’t think to record any of this. He watches Maria shove her way off the stool, hopping onto the bar until she plants both feet on the ground on the other side, her baseball hat tumbling off in the process. 

“Well, would you look what the cat dragged in!”

Michael’s grin widens and he practically skips his way into Maria’s open arms, lifting her up and spinning her around, despite her shrieks that he’s going to make her sick and dizzy. He sets her back down before taking the few steps back before he’s leaning into Alex’s waiting arm. “Thanks for not making him work on his birthday,” Michael tells her, his voice full of sincere gratitude.

Maria eyes Alex dubiously. “I gave you the day off, your boyfriend comes home, and you still came to see me just so I could wish you a happy birthday? Speaking of,” she trails off, and leans up to press a kiss to Alex’s cheek. “Happy birthday, babe. Your card is at the bar with all your tips from last month and an extra special present from my dealer.”

Alex gives Maria an amused look. “Unnecessary, but thank you,” he says, and gives her a helpless shrug. “We’re going to the Crashdown after, but I figured that now that I’m officially legal, there was no better way to celebrate before we go to brunch.”

“Uh huh,” Maria says knowingly, glancing to Michael. “And when did the boyfriend get back?”

“Uh, he’s also your friend,” Michael retorts. 

Alex smiles sweetly and continues to deliberately ignore him. “This morning,” he admits.

“So you being here has nothing to do with the fact that if I find you two in the bathroom, I’m not going to rat you out the way Arturo would to your Mom,” Maria suggests to Michael, raising her brow. Michael sputters and laughs, and Alex gets it. Three years away, and Maria’s still got his number. 

Alex tugs Michael away, kissing his palm. “We’ll behave!” he promises, even though he’s pretty sure that promise isn’t going to hold up. Maria sends them away with a flick of her hand, telling them that she’ll get the drinks ready. 

As she does, Alex does something that’s probably not the wisest thing. It’s not like it’s out of nowhere, he hopes, because he’s been thinking about it for a while, but maybe this isn’t the right time. Given the topic, though, Alex doubts there’s ever going to be a right time, so he might as well dive in and see what happens. 

“Don’t call me crazy, but I want to tell Maria the truth,” Alex says quietly, leading Michael to the nearest table. “Liz, too, but she’s not due back in town for a while, so maybe Maria would be the test run. I trust them,” he insists. “And they’re our best friends,” he pleads. 

This is a lot to ask for on Michael’s first day back, but Alex has spent three years crafting up progressive lies to try and explain the situation between him and Michael. From the look on Michael’s face, it’s clearly not as simple as telling Maria that they’re together the way they had back in high school.

“You know it’s not only my secret to tell,” he points out. “I’d have to clear it with Mom and Dad first.”

“And Dad?” Alex raises his brow. “Your Dad is sticking around?”

“That’s what he says.” 

“You don’t believe him?” Alex isn’t trying to read into Michael’s tone, but there’s a lot of doubt in the way he’s talking and acting. He also doesn’t blame Michael, given what he’s been told by both Mara and Michael over the years. 

Michel shrugs and glances up to Alex, looking subdued and a little wary. “I mean, nine years apart from your wife,” he says quietly. “How do you just undo that?”

“I think the first step is that he’s here,” Alex reminds Michael, dragging his hand into Alex’s, looking at the way his black varnish mingles with Michael’s bare hands as they twine their fingers together. “The Rath you talked about would’ve never put his duty second and even spared a week to come to a lowly planet like Earth, but here he is,” he points out. “That’s big. Besides, Mara clearly adores him.”

“Mara?” Michael echoes.

“What? That’s her name,” Alex protests defensively. 

He glances up to thank Maria when she brings a couple of beers over. Alex picks his up and salutes Michael with it, though it’s not really the first drink milestone it should be, given the fact that he’s been drinking since he first started this job. 

“Oh, I know it’s her name.” Michael gives him a dubious look. “Three years and she doesn’t have you calling her Mom?”

Alex flushes at the comment. “She’s tried.”

“Okay, and…?”

Alex sets the beer down, looking at Michael unflinchingly for this next part. Michael absolutely has a right to know how this discussion went, even if it’s going to put a whole damn mountain of pressure on their relationship. “I told her the same thing that I did when she asked if I wanted to change my name to Alex Guerin. That it’s not happening until I’m part of your family for real. I’ll change my name to Alex Guerin and call her Mom at the same time.” 

He twists their hands so that Alex’s ring finger lies flat and on top of their folded hands.

“The day we get married,” Alex confirms. “That’s when.”

Michael’s breath hitches and Alex drifts towards it, like he’s curving without control like a magnet to Michael’s opposite attraction. He’s missed that sound _so_ badly and he wants so badly to touch him more. “So I guess I need to start planning a proposal?”

“Only if you want to,” Alex replies, licking his lip as he stares at Michael’s mouth. 

He can hear Maria clearing her throat nearby, so whatever they look like must be _damn_ incriminating, but Alex kind of doesn’t have eyes for anything in this world other than Michael Guerin right now. 

“We really should finish these beers, get going to the Crashdown,” Alex says.

Michael hums in acknowledgement, sliding his palm up and down Alex’s thigh. He tries to remind himself about the part where he’d told Maria they’d behave, but Michael won’t stop looking at him like the only thing he’s doing is thinking about proposing, it’s Alex’s birthday, and fuck, it’s been almost three years since they’ve had a chance to tangle their bodies up together, like they’re trying to be one person. Without customers, the Pony is probably the most privacy they’re going to get together for a while. 

He breathes out. “Fuck it,” he says and yanks on Michael’s hand to get him on his feet, shoving him towards the bathrooms.

This time, they go a whole thirty minutes, with the IOU skewing in Alex’s favor. He almost thinks that it’s worth it when he wanders out of the bathroom, zipping his jeans, to get a spray bottle of cold water in his face, courtesy of Maria. 

“What did I say about the bathrooms?” she demands.

“No sex,” Alex dutifully sighs. 

“You get a one-time pass because it’s your birthday and Guerin just got back into town,” she says, wildly gesturing with the bottle. “If you pull this at the Crashdown, you will deserve Rosa’s wrath.”

These days, it mostly comes in graffiti revenge, but she’d probably go for Michael’s truck and do something terrible, like paint it hot Barbie pink or just tag it with the art she’s been using these days, if they’re lucky enough to avoid her drawing with sharpie all over their faces. Either way, it’s absolutely a legitimate, serious threat. 

Luckily, Alex is feeling too blissful and sated to even think about breaking the rules. 

At the Crashdown, they make it through milkshakes, burgers, and even a second round of fries and the worst mischief they get up to is making out in the booth. Even that gets stopped when Rosa wanders over with a bottle of ketchup that she just so happens to tip over into Alex’s hair, sweetly commenting that he looks good in red. 

“Message received,” Alex grumbles, as Michael helps get the napkins to tidy it up. He sits there while Michael cleans him up, dutifully doing absolutely nothing as he stares at his alien boyfriend who’s come back from outer space.

The way butterflies start doing acrobatics in his stomach is a pretty telling thing about how delighted he is about _everything_. It’s the best birthday he could ever ask for, even if they’re definitely not going to get away with making out in the booth anytime soon. He shifts so that he can settle in between Michael’s legs, reaching back with fries to feed him as they catch up on all the things they’ve missed since their last call four months ago.

Alex talks about his job, the classes, finally getting a restraining order against Jesse and the sheer satisfaction he’d felt when he’d been able to call Jim Valenti on his father when he’d tried to violate it. He shows Michael the videos of Coyote Pony night, and absently strokes his fingers over Michael’s knee as he talks about their plans to take the bar to the next level.

Michael talks about the royal functions, his meddling cousins, and what Antar had been like after so long away. He doesn’t mention anything about the paperwork, but Alex doesn’t push. 

They’ll get there in time.

“Fries are on the house,” Rosa says when she delivers the bill to them. “But only if you two leave, I’m gagging on the sappiness,” she deadpans, but there’s a fondness in her eyes. “We missed you Guerin. You shouldn’t leave Alex for so long. People might get ideas about how he’s on the market again.”

As Alex collects his things, he catches the briefest glance at the stormy look on Michael’s face, which sets loose a whole other flurry of butterflies. These ones are armed and are assaulting Alex with that desperate determination to get Michael alone. “It’s fine,” Alex guarantees, squeezing Michael’s hand. “I’ve got the only buyer I need.”

Rosa makes a mock barfing noise and points to the door. “Out. Just know that I’m telling Liz you’re back in town! She’s due for a visit,” she says, clearly delighted at having an excuse to drag her sister back from school and whatever road trip she’s planning to take this summer. 

Given the way Michael is sliding his thumb up and down Alex’s wrist, he doesn’t need any convincing. They make it to the truck and even drive far enough away that they can park a little off the main road, continuing the making out that they’d started in the booth at the Crashdown. It’s probably not a wise idea to be fucking out here where anyone could drive by, but when Alex reaches and yanks open the glove compartment, the condoms and lube that come tumbling out are enough of a nudge to make them risk it. 

Alex’s ass and his back are going to ache like crazy the next day, but it’s worth it. 

(He also needs to think about the fact that he and Michael have had more sex in the last twelve hour period than they’ve had in years. It’s not a bad thing, it’s just…something to think about)

And yet, when he falls asleep that night in their bed, sated and exhausted and in love and tangled up in Michael’s arms, Alex doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with spending the day the way they have. There hadn’t been a cake and Michael’s present to him had been more of his presence, but Alex has all the present he needs.

Michael’s home.

That’s the only thing that matters.

The next morning, Alex wakes up to Michael Guerin in his bed. His nose is pressed to Michael’s neck and the heat he’s kicking off is enough to almost lull Alex back to sleep, if he weren’t so eager to take advantage of Michael being so close and so warm and so perfectly his boyfriend. 

It’s not his birthday anymore, but he’s pretty sure that waking up like this is just a continuation of that incredible day. He slides his fingers over the hickeys on Michael’s neck, drowsily brushing his calloused thumb over the mark. He gets away with this for about a minute before Michael shifts, sleepily blinking at Alex as he rubs a hand over his eyes. 

“Good morning,” Michael greets him, his sleep-rough voice so fucking sexy that Alex stops breathing for a moment. It’s been almost three years and it’s impossible to quantify how much Alex has missed this, but in that moment, it makes him physically ache to imagine another day without this.

Happy belated birthday to Alex, indeed.

“Hi,” Alex mumbles, adjusting himself into Michael’s hold so that he can rest his cheek to Michael’s shoulder, tugging the blankets to cover them both seeing as they’d been too lazy after they’d tumbled into bed last night to put clothes back on. “I think that was the best sleep I had in three years.”

“Mmm,” Michael agrees softly. “Me too. I don’t think I even had time to think about the bleach-inducing things happening in my Mom’s bedroom.”

Alex doesn’t mention that he thinks they’d stayed out in the hammock last night, since he’d seen it swaying as he’d been falling asleep. He doesn’t think talking about that with Michael is such a good idea, though. “I want to hear everything about what happened to get your Dad here, about your situation with your family,” he says, stroking his fingers over Michael’s chest, sighing softly. “I know we talked a few months ago, but what happened since then? Your Dad’s here,” he points out. “That’s…”

“Unexpected?” Michael scoffs, finishing Alex’s sentence for him. “Yeah,” he agrees. “I guess he finally saw my point of view on the whole thing. We talked about it, we talked about duty, and you know the rest.”

“It’d be nice if he stayed,” Alex admits, even though he selfishly wants him to stay because he wants more chances at making a better impression. He also knows that Mara would be over the moon and the stars if he did stay. 

“I want him to,” Michael admits, drawing Alex into his arms. “I know it was your birthday yesterday, but I kind of have more gifts for you today. Yesterday was all about the inventive flight path to get me back to you, but today is about the future. I signed my abdication papers,” Michael brags, his eyes bright. “They say I am never officially going to take the throne and the line skips me, which means no more royal obligations on me. Which means,” he says, pressing a slow kiss to Alex’s temple, “that I don’t need to live on Antar now, or at any point in the future, unless we want to.”

Alex opens his mouth to insist that he doesn’t need a gift, but he actually thinks that he does need this. If only a little, he needs to know that his future with Michael is stable. 

“There’s one more gift,” Michael admits, grinning that mischievous smirk he has. “I figure that one can wait just a little while longer.”

Alex shakes his head, in disbelief that he’s getting _anything_. “You weren’t supposed to be back for weeks. Then you tell me that you signed your papers and you’re staying here with me. You’re also telling me you have more?” He scoffs. “Yeah, you kind of gave me enough presents to last for my birthday, Labor Day, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.”

“Shit. Not New Years?”

Michael looks so stupidly proud about his joke that there’s only one recourse, as far as Alex is concerned. He cups his cheeks and pins Michael to the bed to kiss that smug smirk on his face, rolling them around until he’s back on top, straddling Michael’s hips as he slides his fingertips through Michael’s hair and grabs hold of him. 

If all their mornings end up being like this, then Alex thinks that living together is going to be an incredible thing. He drifts back, staring at Michael with a half-lidded and dazed smile, thinking they’re done.

“Get back here,” Michael growls at him, cupping his neck to yank him back down. Clearly, he hasn’t had enough.

Then again, they have three years of kissing to make up for. There’s three years of touches and three years of saying ‘I love you’ and three long years where Alex never got to curl up against Michael in the cold of Roswell winters. Thirty-six months of not being able to make Michael beg for Alex’s hand or his mouth. 

It’s not a lifetime, but right now, at this point in his life, it _feels_ like one to Alex. Lucky for them, they’re both clearly determined to keep making up for that lost time. 

When Alex surfaces for air, his hair is a complete wreck. He tries to tame it when he hears Mara calling them down to breakfast. He’s almost out the door when Michael grabs him by the hoodie and yanks him back to press possessive kisses over his neck. “We’re definitely house-hunting soon, right?” Michael mumbles. “Cuz I love my Mom, but if Dad’s staying here as long as I think he is, I need privacy.”

Alex whistles for Rover to come join them, leaning back into Michael’s hold. “I thought maybe we’d save the house hunting for a month after you got back, but…” He shrugs, a proud smile on his face. “I’m definitely good in the savings department.”

“Same,” Michael murmurs, sounding a little shy. “Part of the papers I signed meant that they let me have all the royal items that were given to me by relatives over the years, but I only really wanted to keep half of it. They gave me gold for the rest, so I just need to go cash it in and…”

Alex narrows his eyes at Michael. “I don’t want us living in some ridiculous rich person mansion,” he warns.

“I was thinking a little bungalow near my Mom? But, I mean, if you want the fancy rock star life…”

Alex laughs as he lightly pushes Michael, ducking down to ruffle a hand through Rover’s fur. There’s a relief in knowing that no matter what happens, they’ll be well-cared for and can both follow their dreams (and he needs to find out what Michael’s is, now that he doesn’t have royal obligation hanging on his shoulders). 

“Come on,” Alex encourages, even though a part of him absolutely doesn’t want to leave the bedroom. “Whatever’s down there smells incredible.”

Michael finally relents, allowing Alex to wander downstairs to find a full breakfast offering on the table. There’s eggs, bacon, fruit, pancakes, and freshly squeezed orange juice, by the looks of it. It’s definitely a huge difference from the usual overnight oats that he and Mara basically survive on. He lets Rover go beg for scraps from Rath (who’s too new and too easily manipulated to say no, by the looks of it), and Alex’s stunned shock means that Michael barrels into him from behind.

“Alex,” Michael complains, hands on his hips to try and move him forward. He gets him a few inches aside, then gets a better look at the breakfast table. “What the hell, Mom? Are you trying to make it collapse?” he jokes, but he reaches out to take a plate from her, handing it to Alex before sitting down in one of the chairs. “Okay, so last time you made this big of a meal, I was ten and you were coming to Earth,” he says. “What’s happening now?”

Mara and Rath exchange a look and if they didn’t both look so happy, then Alex might worry that this is a ‘we’re splitting up’ talk. He’s already experienced one of those, though his ended with his mother fleeing their house after Jesse had changed his mind and decided that he didn’t want her to go.

This already bodes better than that.

“While you two have been catching up, Mara and I have been talking,” Rath shares, sipping from his coffee cup and ignoring Rover’s plaintive whines as he puts a paw in Rath’s lap to beg for more scraps. “She and I agreed that the last nine years have worked in their own way, but that I’ve put duty first and she’s done the same with her interests. We need a middle ground.”

Michael takes a seat and watches them with a fair amount of caution in his expression. Alex busies himself pouring tea for himself and coffee for Michael, setting the black coffee in front of Michael as he stands behind him, rubbing his back.

“Okay,” says Michael. “And?”

“I’m going to be taking a liaison posting here on Earth,” Rath shares. “Three years for us to be here together, five if I want to extend the contract. Mara and I think it will be good to reconnect.”

Alex watches them both, his gaze swiveling to Michael to see how he’s taking it. It’s not that he’s expecting Michael to be jumping for joy, but he looks strangely cautious about the whole thing. When Alex looks closer, he can see that it’s not caution and instead looks a lot like shock. Alex reaches over to squeeze Michael’s hand, trying to remind him that this is what he wanted.

“Wait. Really?”

It also breaks Alex’s heart a little that Michael’s spent so long wanting his father’s love and affection and _presence_ that he can’t believe that it’s true when he finally gets what he wants. Alex’s just happy that he’s got _one_ set of decent parents in his life.

“Really,” Rath promises, standing so he can ruffle Michael’s hair. “I’ve got a very smart son,” he praises. “I know he’s still got growing up to do, but he’s smarter than me in several ways. One of them being that when he’s met someone that he wants to spend his life with, he puts them first,” he says, eyes sliding over to Alex to give him an approving smile.

“We want a new start,” Mara admits. “So Rath is going to stay here, but we also thought that it might be nice to truly start things over, cleanse the relationship if you will.”

Alex and Michael exchange a wary look, because Alex can’t tell what she means. Does she want to sage all the rooms of the house? Is there some weird ritual that Mara has intended for them that Alex isn’t going to like (expecting it to involve nudity and drugs, because those sorts of things always do). “What are you talking about?” he asks, to save Michael from having to do it.

“We’re going to have a ceremony,” Mara says joyfully as Rath drifts back to her side. “We’ll bring in an officiant from Antar, renew our vows, and invite some guests. You know, a few people,” Mara says, resting her hand on top of Rath’s.

Alex narrows his eyes, because he’s been living here for three years and he recognizes the tells. She’s not looking at them, her eyes are askance, and she’s tapping her foot under the table rapidly. “Mara,” Alex says. “How many people?”

“Oh, not many,” she insists. “My siblings, their children, the cousins, a few royal advisors, maybe a few of the most loyal subjects, Rath’s guardsmen…”

“Everyone,” Michael cuts off with a disbelieving scoff. “She means everyone.” He slurps at his coffee, staring into his mug. “Oh, I’m gonna need way more of this if I have to deal with the entire family I just abdicated away from. Alex? I think I need some Bean Me Up Espresso shots,” he says, out of his chair in an instant.

Everyone is coming to Earth. 

“I’m guessing I should give the hotels and motels a call?” Alex suggests, struck by the amusing thought of alien royalty slumming it in the Roswell La Quinta. 

Then it hits him.

All of sudden, Alex is going to go from only having met his boyfriends’ parents to just about everyone in his life. He feels the weight of that expectation on his shoulders as he watches Michael dangles the keys in front of him, which is clearly the offer to escape that it’s supposed to be. “Yeah, I’m gonna just…” He stops to pick up a waffle from one of the plates, pausing because his overwhelmed emotions doesn’t mean he should be an asshole.

He stops to press a kiss to Mara’s cheek, giving her a delighted smile. 

“Congratulations,” he says, glancing to Rath over her shoulder. “I really am happy for the both of you and I can’t wait to see what an Antarian recommitment ceremony looks like.” He’s excited and terrified, especially given the bug-eyes Michael is giving him in clear warning that he should move away from the topic.

“Espresso,” Michael reminds them firmly. “Please.”

Alex lets himself be dragged away, watching with fond delight to see Mara and Rath nuzzling as they kiss, clearly as in love as they probably were when they were Michael and Alex’s age. It’s absolutely a sweet thing to witness, right up until he remembers about _all_ the people that are about to descend on them.

Once they’re in the truck, he and Michael sit there in silence for a very long moment. 

“Shit,” Michael says. “And to think I used to want everyone to come here and visit Roswell.”

“Everyone. Is that like, a dozen people?” Alex wages a guess, with the hopeful look of a man who has absolutely no idea what he’s getting into. It’s not like he and Michael sit around and talk about how many branches there are on that family tree of his.

From the almost _scared_ look on Michael’s face, he’s clearly not even close.

“Just tell me it’s under a hundred.”

Michael starts the truck as he averts his gaze, pointedly still gives no answer, and that’s all Alex needs to know.

“Oh god,” Alex breathes out. “What did I get myself into?”


	15. Chapter 15

The ship filled with Michael’s relatives arrives quietly in the middle of the night, but by morning, the house is chaos with all the visiting aliens. Alex wakes up to Isobel arguing with Michael in the bathroom about using his conditioner and decides that going back to sleep seems like the smart call here. He’s validated in that knowledge when he crawls back to bed, surrounded by a warm comforter and the chaos in the house is at least muffled by the closed bedroom door. Michael must lose the battle over sharing his conditioner, because that barrier of a door slams shut when he storms back into the bedroom in a huff, muttering about, “stupid cousins,” though Alex feels pretty pleased about the situation, because that means he gets Michael back in bed.

He turns over in Michael’s arms and tries to burrow in, like if he does that hard enough, they’ll go away. 

“What happened to that security system I installed?” he complains, words mumbled into Michael’s chest. “I thought it was supposed to keep out intruders.” 

“Don’t think my family counts as intruders, babe.”

“Well, they should. I’m tired.” 

The security system had been something Alex had installed two years after Michael had left. It had been one of the run-of-the-mill systems, but Alex had used his coding lessons to improve it and make sure they got warnings to the cell phones and also that it would distinguish what kind of threat it was. 

Clearly, he should have programmed in a certain number of people as a threat, family or not. 

Alex gets a precious few more moments of sleep before the noise gets louder again. There are voices bickering, cupboards being slammed, and Alex opens his eyes to stare at the ceiling and wonder why he and Michael hadn’t begged to get an earlier closing date on the house they’d bought. 

Right. At the time, Michael had insisted that his visiting relatives wouldn’t be _that_ bad. That’ll teach Alex to listen to his boyfriend. He’d tried to convince Alex that with the massive amounts of aliens showing up in Roswell over the next few days, it would be good to see them and the Guerin household is a central location to do that in. 

Right now, they’re giving Alex a headache. 

Unfortunately, the noise level in the house means that he’s not getting back to sleep anytime soon. This is only with the one guest room and the hub of operations for the ceremony happening downstairs. He doesn’t even want to think about the hotel situation. Resting his chin on Michael’s shoulder, Alex sleepily kisses his neck and sighs deeply. 

“Don’t,” Michael grunts, and yanks at Alex to pull him into his arms. 

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t make that sad little noise, it just makes me want to make it better.”

This time, absolutely on purpose, Alex lets out that same put-upon _sigh_ , grinning as he makes himself comfortable on top of Michael’s chest, cheek pressed against it so he can let the lulling melody of Michael’s heartbeat put him back to sleep. The warmth that Michael kicks off in tandem with the comfortable position gives him hope that he might get another hour of rest.

Those hopes are dashed when there’s a sharp knocking at the door. 

“Everyone better be decent!” It’s a woman’s voice and it’s not Mara. She knows better than to interrupt Alex and Michael in the morning, which means that it’s one of Michael’s cousins. Opening one eye, Alex studies the woman standing there and looking unfairly glamorous for this hour of the morning. “Come on,” Isobel refuses to leave the doorway, which drags a pitiful sound from Alex as his plans for sleeping in are fully dashed. “Michael, would you wake your boyfriend up? I want a tour of Roswell.”

“Michael,” Alex whines.

“You heard her, sweetheart,” Michael says, patting Alex’s ass twice. “Isobel doesn’t take no for an answer. Oh, and that’s Isobel,” he adds, belatedly, like he’s only just realized that he hasn’t introduced Alex to his cousins in person properly. 

Alex buries his face in the pillow. “I remember,” he says, though it’s muffled by the fabric. “We talked while you were gone, once or twice.” He sighs and flops over, resigning himself to his fate. “Where’s Max? I’m only doing this once.”

“He’s downstairs with my parents,” Isobel admits, reaching down to shove Michael’s curls off his forehead, making a face. “Ugh, is it the Earth air that makes them so greasy?”

Alex bites his tongue, because he _likes_ Michael’s hair, but after the embarrassing first impression with Rath, he kind of wants a better chance with Isobel. Sighing, he knows that means he needs to get out of bed. Pushing the covers off him, he sits up and rubs a hand over his face. He’d gone to bed in a pair of Michael’s pajama pants, which are a little too long, wearing the UFO Emporium t-shirt that Michael adores so much. Isobel laughs as soon as she sees it. 

“Michael, you didn’t tell me he was a groupie,” she teases.

“Oh yeah, I spent my afternoon part-time shifts dreaming about fucking little green men,” Alex deadpans, not thinking about impressing Isobel in that moment, and from the panic that slams into him after, he wishes he could take it back.

It looks like he doesn’t have to, given that Isobel hooks her arm in his. “Michael, I like him,” she says. “We’re going without you, deal with Max,” she says dismissively, flitting her fingers in what Alex presumes is some princess royal habit that she’s grown used to. Suddenly, he’s being yanked out of bed. 

It distinctly feels less like a good thing and more like he accidentally stumbled into some kind of weird alien punishment for having a sense of humor. 

“You’re going to let me get dressed, right?” Alex asks before Isobel can pull him right out of the bedroom. She lets go of him and turns to study him, then glances to the closet before striding towards it to sort through his clothes. Suddenly, Alex is regretting bringing up any kind of fashion.

Michael sits up in bed and settles his arms around his bent knees, watching the whole thing like the asshole he can be. He’s only been back for a few months and already Alex is remembering all these little faults that he has, but the trouble is that he’s been gone for so long that he’s still securely wrapped up in the part where he loves them because it’s been so long without them.

Alex keeps trying to push forward into the closet to help, because he has no idea what Antarian fashion is like, but given the high-waisted pants and the sleek leather-like sleeveless top Isobel is wearing, she could choose something very worrying for him. It doesn’t matter that she makes it work, they’re definitely questionable pieces of clothing on their own (and probably on _anyone_ else).

“You know I can dress myself,” he protests, and takes the suit jacket out of her hands, frowning when he sees that she’s also picked a comfortable grey long-sleeved t-shirt. With the jeans she’s picked, the navy blue blazer, and the shirt, he’ll actually look really, really good.

Overdressed, but good.

He’s sure he has a stunned look on his face, but Isobel must scan his mind, because she leans to the side to give Michael a smug look (okay, so it’s definitely taught to them because he’s seen that look on Michael’s face one too many times). “Or,” Alex confesses, and drags the clothes with him, “maybe I like you just as much.”

Isobel preens and settles her hands under her chin as she smiles at him, all puppy-dog eyes and saccharine sweetness. 

He’s completely unimpressed. “Yeah, Michael has a better version of that face and I was immune to it years ago,” Alex scoffs, flicking his fingers to send her off because he might like her, but that doesn’t mean she gets to watch him get changed.

There are still boundaries that need to be set.

“Oh, fine,” Isobel replies with a huff, walking out of the walk-in closet to the bedroom. Before he closes the door to the closet, he sees her curl up on the bed with Michael, the two of them cuddled up together around a few pillows, whispering about what they’re going to do with his hair, and Isobel asking if Alex can grow a beard.

He rubs a hand over his face, trying not to get defensive about his facial hair situation as he gets changed. Pulling on a pair of socks, he wanders out of the closet and spreads his arms as he does a spin (at Isobel’s request). When he comes back to his starting position, he catches the hungry expression on Michael’s face.

“Isobel,” Michael says in a deceptively calm voice. “If you don’t take Alex on your tour in the next two minutes, Alex isn’t leaving the house for the next three hours.”

Alex shivers with anticipation and he _hopes_ that Isobel will decide she wants to do something else, but unfortunately for him, Isobel shoves a pair of shoes at him before she marches downstairs, which means that he’s doomed to play tour guide.

“Keys?” Alex asks, resigning himself to shuttling around an alien princess to their town’s interesting spots. If they’re lucky, he’ll be able to stretch it out to two hours.

After all, he really can’t see Isobel finding the scrapyard as interesting as Michael had when he’d last been here, so he figures they’ll be back by early afternoon. Maybe Michael can make good on that promise when he gets back (if they can manage a moment of privacy, which seems like a fairly big ask). 

He accepts the truck keys from Michael, leaning in for a kiss that he lets linger. Making a little pouting face, he gives Michael a hopeful little look. “You’re sure you won’t come with us?” It’s not that he’s scared of Isobel or anything, but she kind of seems like a lot and Alex doesn’t want to misstep or do anything that’ll make her hate him. Alex gets the feeling that she’s the kind of person who might just hold a grudge for the rest of her natural life, if given the chance.

“I need to help with the plans for the ceremony and Max wants to debrief on a bunch of my projects,” Michael says apologetically, lifting Alex hands to his lips so he can brush kisses over ever single one of his knuckles. “When you get back, though, I want to see what she decided to buy you. Retail souvenirs are definitely a given,” he assures, and his eyes slide over Alex in the outfit. “I’m also going to undress you and show you just how much I like you in that look.”

Alex shivers again and he knows that’s his cue to leave, because the last thing he needs is Isobel getting in his head to remind him that he owes her a tour. 

“I love you. Don’t let your family work you to the bone,” he insists. 

“Don’t let my cousin eat you alive,” Michael counters, like that’s every bit as likely.

Alex looks outside the window to see Isobel waiting impatiently by the truck, which means that if he doesn’t get out there soon, he’s definitely going to have some hell to pay. Sighing, he leans in for one last kiss from Michael before he heads out to begin his day of trying to make a good impression and surviving. 

He opens the passenger side door for Isobel, gesturing for her to enter, which she does with great unease and wariness. He knows the truck isn’t immaculate – it never will be, not with Rover’s fur all over and the fact that they live in the desert and sand is inevitable – but it definitely doesn’t deserve the look she’s giving it. 

“It’s not that bad,” Alex says defensively.

“I’m a princess,” Isobel retorts, lifting her chin as she picks up one of Michael’s hoodies from where it’s strewn over the gearshift, dropping it in the backseat. “This is definitely all Michael,” she says with an amused laugh. “He was always leaving his shit everywhere. I think I still have three of his sweaters in my room back on Antar, because his staff would always just buy him a new one.” 

Alex can relate, though it’s not like he minds. He’d loved having Michael’s things in their room when he’d left the planet, and while the smell of Michael (his shampoo, the conditioner, the grease from his work) had faded after a few months, Alex had never stopped wearing his clothes. He reaches back for the hoodie to make sure it’s not on the ground with all of Rover’s fur, before starting the engine.

“You’re going to be disappointed,” he warns her. “It’s Roswell. We practically made news the day the sixth traffic light went up.”

“I want to see it anyway,” Isobel insists.

Alex shrugs, because it’s her funeral. It’s not that she’s going to be traumatized by anything they see today (at least, he hopes not), but she’s definitely liable of becoming bored. He tries to match the sightseeing to her interests, as much as he knows them, but even that’s difficult. They spend a little while at the jewelry store and Alex even buys her a pair of turquoise earrings, but all that does is earn a comment about how back home, she has gems that Earth can’t even produce.

He’s seen Michael’s signet ring, so he knows exactly what she means.

The clothing stores they go to fare a little better, not because she finds things that she likes, but because she takes it as a challenge to dress up Alex. By the time they leave the main strip, Alex has two new pairs of skinny jeans, a pair of combat boots, and enough shirts that he might need to start claiming more room in the shared closet.

Maybe the new house they bought will have a second room only for their clothes.

“We could go to the bar?” Alex suggests, even though it’s probably too early for a visit to the Wild Pony, but also he’s not entirely sure he wants to risk Maria meeting Isobel just yet, not before he's had a chance to explain everything to Maria.

Without the explanation of alien princess, Isobel might come off as slightly _difficult_ and that’s the last thing Alex wants. He’s not sure how long Isobel intends to stay for, but he’d like to avoid the two different parts of his life clashing so quickly.

It just so happens that Isobel isn’t in the mood to start drinking either, given the way she wrinkles her nose in distaste, so they don’t have to cross that bridge just yet. “Where’s this Crashdown place?” Isobel asks. “Michael can’t stop talking about their burgers, apparently I _have_ to try one.” 

“I mean, he’s underselling the fries and the milkshakes,” Alex insists, passionate about his own favorites when it comes to the Crashdown, but he’s glad that she’s not about to take him to the mall and give him a makeover, because the last thing he wants is to be a Barbie doll for an alien princess today.

Not that she’d done badly with his outfit or even the clothes she’d bought him, even though he looks like he’s about to go pitch a song to his agent today. Maybe this is just a hint at what Michael had experienced, growing up. There’s always someone to put on an appearance for, which means that you never get to go out in just sweatpants and a t-shirt.

Before she goes back home, Alex tells himself that he’s going to switch things up and make sure that Isobel gets a night in to herself and the boys, where they wear nothing but comfortable clothes, watch movies, and maybe Alex can even convince Isobel to let him at her nails, seeing as he’s perfected a few helpful little nail art tricks over the last few years.

“We’re here,” he tells her, parking on the street right under the looming UFO sign on the roof.

She gets out of the truck and stares up at it, looking fully unimpressed. “We collected all the pieces after the crash,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “And it absolutely didn’t look like that.” She sounds so unhappy with the fact that they’re misrepresenting the design of the ships that Alex wants to laugh. 

“The Fosters didn’t get much of a good look at it before your people came to clean up the pieces,” Alex reminds her, having heard the story both from the locals, but also from Michael and Mara. “They let their imaginations do the rest.”

“Clearly someone with no eye for art,” is her opinion. “Maybe their food will be better than their advertising, at least.”

Alex opens the door and gestures for Isobel to go first, but when he follows her in, he stops in his tracks when he sees a familiar face standing in the middle of the Crashdown. “Holy shit,” he says, the smile on his face practically hurting from how wide it is. He can see Rosa behind the counter polishing glasses, a smug look on her face, before Isobel turns around to see why Alex had stopped.

Of course, then Isobel catches sight of Rosa and clearly decides to learn more about the local humans, settling herself on a stool and leaning in to talk to the woman, which gives Alex the opportunity to catch up with an old friend. 

“I know,” says Liz Ortecho, who hasn’t been home in two very long years. She gives her hair a light fluff. “I got hot.” Her hair is half the length it had been the last time Alex had seen her, and it’s curled like she’s expecting to go out, though maybe that’s just her look these days. She grabs hold of Alex by his jacket and hauls him in for a hug. “You asshole,” she accuses, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You didn’t respond to my last letter!”

He hadn’t, she’s right, but it had been around the time of the anniversary of Michael leaving for Antar, when Alex had been in a really low depressive state. He opens his mouth to try and explain that, but Liz shakes her head as if to tell him that it’s not necessary. 

“Maria told me that Michael had to go away,” she says, quieter now, and seemingly understanding of his radio silence. “I figured it might have had something to do with that.”

“He’s back now, it’s fine,” Alex insists, as if he can somehow gloss over that difficult part in his life just because Michael is back. Liz gives him a pointed look and Alex deflates, the way he always does when she pokes holes in his cover. “Okay, it wasn’t fine, but it’s something that we’re going to figure out. He’s staying now and we bought a house down the street from Mara’s,” he shares proudly.

“You’re staying in Roswell?” Liz realizes, and she looks completely shocked.

Alex doesn’t blame her. For years before he’d met Michael, every conversation with Maria, Liz, and Kyle had started and ended with their plans to get out of there. At least, Liz, Kyle, and Alex’s. Maria had always quietly listened, but they’d all known that the family business for her meant she’d be staying in town. 

Now, here’s Alex making a home of Roswell. 

“I’m not saying I’m never going to travel,” he protests. “I’m just saying that I want a base of operations and that happens to be here, with Michael.” He feels a soft warmth flood him as he thinks about how he’s choosing to live where his family is, even if it’s not the family he’d been born into. “Mara’s here, and Michael, and even Maria,” he points out. “If you decided to come visit your Dad and sister more often…”

Liz rolls her eyes, then glances down the bar top to see Isobel leaning over the counter, her hand in Rosa’s, while Rosa draws a tattoo on the pale skin of her forearm. Arching her brow, she turns back to Alex with a suspicious look. 

“What?” Alex demands.

“Since when did you become Barbie’s friend?”

Alex rolls his eyes. “Very funny,” he deadpans. “Michael’s father actually came back to town, too,” Alex admits, “and he and Mara are having this big recommitment ceremony out by their house,” he shares, and gives Liz a hopeful look. “That’s Isobel, one of his cousins. Her twin Max is at the house too, I said I’d show Isobel around town today.” Clearly, the Crashdown has something interesting given the way Isobel is staring at Rosa like she’s discovered a bright shiny new toy.

He'll have to ask Michael later if he ought to be worried about that. 

For now, he gets to ask a question he really didn’t think he would. He hadn’t expected Liz to be back in town, so he’d anticipated doing this on the phone, but this is much better in person. “Michael says I’ve got as many plus-ones as I want and Maria’s already coming, so, you wanna be my date and take up my dance card?”

“Michael won’t glare at me all night?” 

“Oh, he will,” Alex guarantees, “but I think after all these years away, you owe me a dance, and I’ve already had a few months with Michael to make up for him having left me.”

With them both at the ceremony, he and Michael intend to tell them everything. It had been a bit of an argument with Mara and Rath because the whole goal of the Antarians is to keep a low profile, but Alex had convinced them by pointing out how it would be helpful to have a few more allies in town. They hadn’t been happy, but they’d agreed to let a few more humans in on the secret.

They need to get them both there first. It’s not exactly the kind of conversation Alex wants to have in public, and he figures if they’re around the ship and a bunch of aliens, he’ll have a lot more proof.

“I’ll have to go dress shopping,” Liz warns.

“Don’t say that too loudly,” Alex insists, eyes darting down the counter to Isobel. “She’ll hear you.”

“She already did,” Isobel says pleasantly, returning to Alex’s side. The art on her wrist is that of a UFO taking off, with the words ‘take me home’ in cursive beneath it. Rosa’s beaming away smugly behind the counter, tapping the closed sharpie against her palm, even as her father tries to hustle her into bringing orders to her tables. “Who is this?”

“Isobel, this is Liz Ortecho. She’s one of my oldest friends and Rosa’s sister,” Alex explains.

Liz gestures behind her. “Rosa’s the one who just tagged you,” she jokes. 

Isobel’s look of interest makes Alex extremely wary on Rosa’s behalf, but that’s something he can talk about with Michael later. For now, he thinks that he should get Isobel home before he has to do something like help Liz pry them apart in the back alley. “Liz is going to come to the ceremony, so we’ll see her there again.”

The corners of Isobel’s lips curve up and she looks past Liz to Rosa. “Okay,” is all she says, calmly and like she’s plotting something. “Come on, Alex, take me back to the house.” Whatever she’s come to do, she must feel like she’s accomplished it, because she turns on her toe and marches out of the Crashdown, shiny blonde hair bouncing in her wake.

Alex mouths ‘sorry?’ to Liz, but she doesn’t look upset so much as puzzled and Alex thinks he gets that. Isobel is definitely a force of nature, but one that’s a little confusing and makes you wonder what just happened. 

When he climbs back into the truck, Isobel’s sitting there and rubbing her fingers over the art that’s on her arm. 

Smugly, Alex starts the truck. “Found something interesting?”

“We’ll see,” is all Isobel has to say about that, keeping her cards close to her sleek leather-like top. 

It's almost dinner by the time they get back to the house, which is later than Alex had anticipated when they’d first set out for the day. He parks them and then brings Isobel to the porch. Inside, he can hear the chaos as people argue about what they’re going to have for dinner, but there’s one last thing he wants to show her.

“What?” Isobel asks warily, when Alex drops into one of the rocking chairs on the porch. “What are we looking at?”

“Sit,” he encourages with a gesture to the matching chair, pushing at his toe to start rocking back and forth. “I know back on Antar, you might have brilliant stars and suns and moons…” He kind of doesn’t know what to picture, even though Michael’s tried multiple times to explain it to him. “I still think Roswell has some of the prettiest sunsets that I’ve ever seen.”

Not that he has much to compare to, apart from a few nights in California and a few other cities in New Mexico, but he’s biased.

He doesn’t say anything else to Isobel because he doesn’t think his words can explain it. The sky does all the talking for them. She humors him, and they sit together in silence as the sun dips towards the horizon, painting them in glorious reds and oranges and purples. 

Only when twilight begins to cast over the horizon does Isobel look over to give Alex a fond smile. “I’m glad he met you,” she says, breaking their silence. “I’m pissed that you’re stealing him from us,” she goes on, because clearly she’s always been one to speak her mind and now is no exception. “Still, this is better than the life I thought he’d have. Locked away like some science princess, dying alone, unhappy and following a dream someone else had for him.”

Alex is beyond happy that’s not going to be Michael’s life. “I’m happy he met me, too,” he says. “He saved my life,” he confesses quietly. It might sound like hyperbole, but he thinks it’s true. He’s not sure he would have survived Jesse if not for Michael’s presence, giving him something to fight for. “So, we’re well matched that way.”

Isobel reaches over and takes Alex’s hand in hers, squeezing it firmly. “I’d give him a speech about treating you right, but I suspect that he’s heard it before.”

Grinning, Alex shrugs, because it’s not his fault he seems to accumulate protective women like a moth to a flame. “What can I say? I encourage good speeches,” he says blissfully, and leans towards Isobel as they watch the stars come out in the sky, their hands tangled together. 

They get another twenty minutes of peace and quiet before someone realizes they’re back, which is when all hell breaks loose.

“Isobel! Isobel, darling, come inside and tell me about this quaint little planet, I hear they have something called a _drive-in_ that I’d love to hear more about.”

“Alex?” That’s Michael, eager and breathless. “Hurry up, I told them about your new song, they want you to sing it…”

“Everyone!” And there’s Mara, trying to shout her way into control, “Dinner table, now!” 

Isobel shares a smile with Alex before they head inside, but before they enter the fray, she stops him to pull him into a tight embrace. “Thanks for the tour,” she murmurs. “It was very enlightening to see all the scenery you have around here.” 

Alex suspects she doesn’t mean the natural scenery, but who is he to interfere?

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” is his only warning.

Flipping her hair, Isobel gives him a cool, calm smile. “From Michael’s stories, that isn’t much at all.” 

He nearly chokes when she leaves him out there on his own and Alex isn’t sure what’s more annoying about the situation. That Michael talks so much about their sex life, that Isobel is so willing to use it against him, or that she’s actually pretty _right_. It’s a problem for later, he decides, because right now he has a dinner to make it through and that alone will take up all his energy. 

It’s been a good day, though. He could use a few more of days like today to remind him why the chaos of their lives isn’t such a bad thing, because it’s more family for Alex that he never got to have before. 

For that, he’s beyond grateful, and willing to put up with a _lot_.

* * *

With things at the house so chaotic with the impending ceremony, Alex is the one who suggests that they sneak away one night to get some peace and quiet. From the desperately relieved look on Michael’s face, he’d been about to suggest the same thing. They load up Michael’s truck and head out to Foster Ranch to stargaze and relive their first time, all those years ago.

Alex unloads the blanket from the back of the truck when they get there, while Michael hovers near the truck. He looks nervous, though Alex can’t figure out why. 

He’s going to take a stab in the dark about why he’s so tense. “Your family’s great, but they can be a _lot_. I really don’t mind, though. They’re great.” Michael doesn’t seem to lose any of his nerves even though Alex is trying his best to break the mood, but he reaches over and squeezes Michael’s hand. “Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah,” Michael quickly insists, even though Alex isn’t so sure he believes him. 

Michael’s acting the way he had the night that he’d told Alex that he had to fly away. Something like dread starts to settle in Alex’s stomach, starting to worry that there’s going to be equally bad news tonight. He tells himself that he’s being dramatic and he shouldn’t jump to conclusions, but Michael doesn’t get like this without a reason.

So Alex fixes him with a look that says he better explain, which seems to deflate Michael and at least burns some of the nerves off. “My family is a lot,” he agrees. “I forgot that, but it’s also _so good_ having them here. They adore you,” he praises, reaching for the blanket so he can set it down on the ground. 

“I mean,” Alex shrugs, trying not to get too puffed up about it, “they seem to not hate me.”

“Yeah, Isobel always tells me that she’s stealing all my boyfriends,” Michael says sarcastically as he heads back to the truck for the next round of items. “That’s absolutely the picture of ‘doesn’t hate’.”

Alex follows, squinting at him. “I thought I was your only boyfriend.”

“Oh, you are. Still, she never wanted to steal anyone from me. My toys, sure, my food? Absolutely. Never people. Not until you.” He hands Alex the next bag, which has their _personal_ supplies, and Alex takes it over to the blanket.

By the time he gets back, clearly the nerves have settled back in, because Michael is avoiding his gaze. Something else must be going on, because Michael is acting stranger then usual. Michael is fidgeting with his fingers, the way he does when he’s nervous, but Alex reaches over to still the motion. There’s nothing that he has to be nervous about, not that Alex knows about. Maybe Michael wants to ask Alex to go back to Antar with him, along with the family? He honestly can’t imagine what else could get him in this kind of mood.

“Michael,” Alex says calmly, trying to infuse him with that emotion. “What’s going on?”

“I know when I asked you to prom, I did this whole _thing_ ,” Michael says, gesturing wildly out to the desert. Alex would argue that with the sun setting and casting beautiful amber and red glows on the desert, this is already plenty romantic. “I don’t want this to just be a gesture, though,” he admits, tangling his fingers up in the blankets that Alex had brought. 

Alex gives him a fond look, remembering those bouquets of roses after prom (and how they’re all pressed in various books in his room). “Michael, what are you talking about?” he laughs, because ever since his family started arriving, he’s been this giant ball of stress, so he figures this is something to do with that. “If it’s about the house and us moving in…”

“It’s not,” Michael cuts him off. “Alex, let me,” he pleads. “I gotta…” he lets out a frustrated huff. “Fuck, I really thought that I wouldn’t fuck this up. I told you that I had one more gift for you, right? Well, this is it.”

Alex gives him a wary look, wanting to tell him that stargazing is plenty romantic and perfect. There doesn’t need to be a big speech about it, but maybe Michael’s nervous because he put a lot of thought into saying the right words. They’ve talked a lot since Michael got back, but there haven’t been overly flowery confessions or the kind of declarations that you could end a romantic comedy with. He’s in the middle of getting the food from the truck, but he gives Michael a nod, as if he needs to give him permission. Michael still has that nervous look on his face, but Alex figures he’ll talk it out with him, and Michael will tell him what’s wrong.

For now, he keeps working to get all their things ready so that when the stars start showing, they won’t have to worry about a thing.

When whatever it is Michael has to say doesn’t come out, Alex figures he needs a little poke. “Michael, I really don’t need anything more from you,” Alex protests, because it’s been months since Michael got back. Even though it’s plenty sappy, he’s told him almost every day that being with him is gift enough, because Michael’s here and he’s not going anywhere without Alex.

Still, he’s not expecting what happens next. 

When he turns around from the truck with the last blanket and the picnic basket in hand, he sees something completely unexpected. It’s so wild that he drops the basket onto the ground, glad they didn’t bring Rover or they would’ve had to take him to the vet after he ate everything after it spilled out.

“Michael, what…?” 

It’s not that it’s a surprise. It’s not that it’s even shocking. Some part of Alex has been expecting and wanting this for years, but to have it happen right in front of him is still something so _beautiful_ and perfect that he can’t see Michael completely clearly through his tears.

“Alex Manes. Will you marry me?” Michael Guerin asks a question that Alex has been waiting to hear for three long years.

Alex stares at Michael in the perfect light of a Roswell sunset, on one knee. Behind him, the setting sun casts glorious colors on the landscape and makes Michael’s curls gleam beautifully. In his fingers, Michael holds his grandfather’s signet ring in the shifting light, the shimmering iridescence catching the sun and reflecting in dappled touches on the desert ground. 

“Let me give you the Guerin name, since I know you’ve been waiting for this to finally take it. Let’s spend our lives together on earth as boring, normal people who aren’t alien princes. One day, I’ll take you back to Antar, and we’ll…”

“You’re still talking!” Alex interrupts, a panic bubbling up in him as he drops the blanket and stares at Michael, advancing on him to stare at him. “What? Why? I…” Why is he still talking? Shouldn’t he be putting the ring on Alex? What did he miss, because Michael’s still gaping at him like Alex is the one who’s gone mad instead of Michael.

“Cuz you haven’t said yes,” Michael points out. 

It’s going to be so odd to see Michael without that ring on his pinky, but when he reaches out to take it, he realizes that Michael hasn’t been wearing it for the last week. When he holds out his hand to Michael and lets him slide the ring onto Alex’s left-hand ring finger, he understands why.

It’s been perfectly sized to fit Alex. 

Michael’s taken it off, measured Alex’s finger, and gone to someone in town to make sure that the ring would fit him absolutely perfectly. Alex tries to pull his hand back to look at it, but Michael tugs and prevents him from doing that, which gets an affronted protest from Alex. “Michael!” he complains.

“Alex, please say yes?” Michael replies. His brow is furrowed and he genuinely looks worried.

“You think I’d let anyone put a ring on this finger?” Alex teases him, shaking his head because it's absolutely adorable and wild and ridiculous that Michael is expecting any other answer. Still, in order to put him out of his waiting misery, Alex will say anything in the dictionary.

Lucky for him, it’s such a simple word.

“Yes,” he says, staring at the ring on his finger that binds him to the Guerin family and inducts him into it. It means so much that it had once belonged to Michael’s grandfather and now is a sign of Michael’s love for him. This time, he’s the one who yanks on Michael’s hand, wrapping both hands around his wrist to haul him to his feet. He's nodding eagerly, rapidly, and, “Yes!” is practically giddiness in the form of a single word. 

“Yeah?” Michael teases, but he’s on his feet now, hands on Alex’s waist as he slides their bodies flush together for a kiss that could make Alex swoon, if it weren’t for the way Michael’s holding them up (and Alex is sure his powers are involved). “Is that, was that…?” he asks in between kisses, deliberately baiting Alex. “Could that be a yes from you?”

It’s only making him laugh, because Michael’s being an idiot and Alex loves him. He loves him more than he’s loved anyone in his entire life, he thinks, and he can’t even remember a time when he didn’t. He knows it’s there, but that part of his life feels encumbered by shadow and grief, but now it’s so much better.

“Yes,” he says again, with all the weight of his sureness behind him. “When all this insanity with your parents and your family is done, I take you to be my husband.”

“Jumping ahead here,” Michael clucks his tongue at him, as if he can seriously chide Alex into remorse. “Those aren’t your lines yet.”

Alex figures it’s fully deserved to give Michael a light push down to the blankets, crawling on top of him as Michael stretches out beneath him, a smug grin on his face that Alex intends to wipe off by making him focus on something else. 

“Guerin, you’re an idiot,” he laughs, as he muffles those words with kisses against Michael’s neck, slowly undressing them both and finding that in one of the picnic baskets, Michael has helpfully packed _all_ the supplies they’ll need. 

When the sun sets fully in the sky and the stars begin to shine through, Alex doesn’t see a single one. The blankets warm beneath them, the food forgotten, Alex’s whole world has narrowed to the sight of Michael beneath him as he pushes into him, making love to him for the first time as his fiancé. If this is the only sight he sees for the rest of his life, he’d give up the moon and the stars and every other beautiful sight in the sky for the alien that’s come from them to be Alex’s. 

They stay there until the early hours of the morning, their touches going from slow-burning and heated to frantic and then back around to soft and steady and slow. When neither of them can even think about another round, Alex drags one of the thicker blankets over them, tugging Michael flush against his body as he tucks his curls under his chin and presses a slow kiss to them.

The ring gleams in the starlight, too, but in a different way.

“It’s a promise,” is Michael’s sleepy comment, when he sees Alex studying it. “That ring was my grandfather’s, a family heirloom, but it reminded him of his duty to Antar. I gave it to you because you’re more important than any job that I could take, or any work that I might do. To me, you are.”

It looks like Michael still has a few romantic words in him after all.

“I’ll have to figure out my own promise to you,” Alex murmurs, his mind already racing with ideas. He knows he’ll think of something, and he knows there’s no rush, but it’s important for him to show Michael that he loves him just as much.

He can do that now with the soft kisses to Michael’s hair and the way he holds him tight. The rest will come in time, but they have the rest of their lives to figure that out.


	16. Chapter 16

If Alex thought that he knew chaos before, he’s sorely wrong.

He clearly had no true understanding of the word, because as they approach the day of the ceremony, Alex learns what _real_ chaos looks like. Rath’s guardsmen keep traipsing through the house with their boots on, calling Michael ‘sir’ (much to his annoyance) and making Alex unnerved to see such a military presence in a home that has never had it before. 

It’s only seven in the morning on the day of the ceremony, but Mara’s already been stolen away by Isobel and some of the other royal Antarians for her preparations. Rath’s in the midst of talking logistics for the ceremony with his guards in the kitchen, but Alex’s mission is much more mundane. The ceremony is today, on the heels of Michael’s proposal, and everyone has been so distracted that no one’s noticed yet that Alex has a new piece of jewelry on his finger.

He manages to get to the coffee maker, fill up two mugs, and then book it back upstairs where no one can bother him because luckily he’s background dressing as far as the Antarians are concerned. Carrying the coffee cautiously, he makes it back upstairs and even closes and locks the bedroom door behind him (with a lot of juggling, especially seeing as Rover keeps trying to jump up and greet him).

“Hey, down boy,” Alex says warily, when the coffee starts sloshing over the edge of the cup.

Michael shifts in bed and reaches out with his powers to float the coffee towards him where he’s sitting up, shining his shoes. “Next time I say that we don’t need to move into our house because it won’t be that bad, _do not_ listen to me,” he says darkly.

Should he be sympathetic?

Maybe, but at the same time, Alex is pretty sure he’s going to be in a good mood for ages, seeing as he’s still blissful from their time out at Foster Ranch last night, celebrating their engagement until the early hours of the morning. They’ve only had a couple of hours sleep, and given that the ceremony is in a few hours, maybe that’s a very bad idea, but Alex doesn’t care.

“Aw,” Alex taunts as he sips his coffee and sets it on the nightstand, taking Michael’s out of his hand to get it out of harm’s way so that he can bear down on him and kiss him deeply, cupping his neck as he slides their bodies flush together. “Are you upset that you have such a big, loving family that all traveled literal light years to come see you? Is that a problem?”

“Fuck,” Michael hisses, “I wish I didn’t find you so hot when you get all sassy.” He groans as Alex drops his left hand (with the ring on it) into Michael’s pajama pants to give his cock a few absent strokes. “Isobel’s a bad influence on you,” he mumbles.

Alex raises both eyebrows. “Seriously? Why are you invoking her name right now?”

Michael grimaces and closes his eyes. “Because if I don’t think about her and Max, I will get hard, and it’s my parents’ wedding recommitment, so any moment now…”

“Michael!” It’s like it’s on cue, which means that Mara must have been sending out warnings mentally before she started up the stairs. Michael fumbles and pushes Alex’s hand out of his pants, sitting up rapidly and reaching for the cup of coffee, trying desperately not to let it spill on the bedspread. “Rath wants to know if you’ll stand at his side during…” She stops as she opens the door to their room, just as Alex manages to reach for his mug.

They’re the picture of domestic bliss, with both of them sipping their coffee, Rover’s tail thumping on the ground where he lies. They made it by only a few seconds, but they’ve managed.

Mara stops in the middle of the door frame and eyes them both.

She can’t know what they were doing, can she? Actually, yes, she absolutely can, but the way Mara had once explained it to Alex, she has a guarding system in place that allows her to block it out. She’s looking at the both of them like she can tell that something’s shifted, and while Alex knows it has, he hadn’t been expecting her to pick up on it when she has so much else on her plate.

“If I were a less confident woman,” Mara says, crossing her arms over her chest, “then I might think my son is trying to upstage me.”

In her pink silk robe with her makeup half done and her hair in an artful tumble, Alex is fairly sure that no one on the planet could upstage her in this moment. Then he taps his fingers against the mug, hears the _clink-clank_ and ducks his head down with a knowing laugh. “I mean, she’s not wrong about how it might draw attention,” he points out. “I was planning to take it off before I saw everyone,” he insists.

“No,” Mara says thoughtfully. “It’s the perfect time to wear it. If half the advisors are having heart attacks about my son proposing to an earthling, they won’t give Rath half as much of a hard time about his staying on the planet.”

It's clearly strategic and feels wrong, but Alex doesn’t want to take off the ring, so he’s more than willing to go along with her plan.

He opens his mouth to agree, but Mara is already out of the room. “One hour warning, you’d both better be dressed and outside. If you’re not, I’m letting Rath send his guards in!” She’s gone with a flurry of activity, and with that threat, Michael’s unwillingness to do anything more becomes crystal clear.

Alex is left gaping, his mouth open, and he thinks back to all those years ago when he’d first met Michael Guerin. Could he have ever imagined that this would be his life? Engaged to a former alien prince, about to attend the recommitment ceremony of a high ranking alien general and a former princess?

Nope, but he’s not about to complain, since it’s the happiest he’s ever been.

“See,” Michael says smugly, and reaches for his coffee, drinking it like it’s water and not a hot caffeinated beverage. Alex suspects that he needs it. “I told you it wasn’t safe to get going,” he says.

Alex sighs and reaches to set his coffee on the nightstand. “We move out _tomorrow_.”

Michael reaches over to cup Alex’s cheek, pressing a kiss to his cheek, then to the corner of his lips, ducking in to steal a longer kiss before he gets out of bed to start assembling the pieces of his suit. “Tomorrow, we start moving the boxes, because you and I both know that it’s not that easy.”

Alex groans as he lets his head fall back, but Michael’s right.

First, they have to survive today. Then, they can worry about moving into their new home and settling into a new life. Alex debates going back for more coffee and knows that if he doesn’t head out to the bathroom soon, he’s about to lose it, so he sets the coffee down to go take a shower, pushing past a few straggling aliens in line on his way. 

The grumbling stops when he turns, raises his left hand to show off the ring, and gestures to the bathroom. “This is my house, I’m engaged to Michael, and if anyone thinks that means they get the bathroom before I do, they’re welcome to go to his parents and let them know.” The line clears like the Red Sea for him, which helps Alex feel _very_ powerful, so maybe the alien royalty thing has some benefits for him after all. 

By the time he’s done showering and gets back to the bedroom, there’s a note from Michael that says he had to head downstairs to help Rath with something and that he’ll see him after the ceremony. 

It’s for the best. 

The last thing that Alex needs is to get a glimpse of Michael in his suit and be overcome with the need to take him apart. He still takes his time putting himself together with his sleek black suit, the lapels shiny and specifically made for him by a local tailor. Mara had made sure that both her boys would look suitably handsome for today and Michael’s in a similar version, though his is in a navy blue with a sleek silky bowtie that Alex intends to run his fingers over later.

The chaos in the house grows to a frantic pace when the guards start shouting that there’s a thirty minute warning until the ceremony, which means that everyone needs to get moving. He tucks a few items in his pockets, steadies the ring on his finger so that it gleams in the sunlight, and starts working on his hair, sitting on the bed to lace up his shoes at the same time.

When he checks the mirror, his reflection is _almost_ perfect, but at the last minute, he reaches for the eyeliner he keeps stashed in their bedside drawer, applying it with the steady hands of a professional. With that, there isn’t a single thing he’d change.

Satisfied, Alex knows he can go. “I’m on my way!” he calls when he hears a shout from downstairs saying that the house is empty and if anyone (which means Alex specifically, and if he doesn’t move, he’s in trouble) is lingering, they need to go.

Locking the door behind him, Alex is last one out, crossing over the backyard and into the nearby park where they’ve set up the ceremony. He stops before he hits the crowd, because he hears a familiar truck rumbling nearby, which is perfect timing as far as excuses go to not get involved in the insanity that is Michael’s family in these last few moments before the ceremony.

He heads straight for the party’s entrance, joining Liz and Maria as they get out of Maria’s truck, intending to escort them both in, one woman on each arm. 

“You guys look incredible,” Alex says as he takes them into the main area, reaching for a few flutes of champagne so he can hand them off, even though he downs his within seconds.

It’s been a very stressful few weeks and he needs something to dull that sharp edge. 

They really do look gorgeous. Maria’s in a white summer dress that flares out at the waist in waves and Liz is wearing a sleek blue thing that hugs tight to her body. They both look a touch wary to be there, but Alex will put their minds to rest quickly, seeing as it’s Mara’s ceremony and they’re both favorites of hers. 

“This is a lot more people than I was expecting,” Liz admits, adjusting the dress and glancing past Alex to look at the beautiful wedding arch that’s been set up, her gaze scanning over the guests at the wedding before they land on Michael. “Who got him into the suit?” Alex turns to look at him for the first time since he’s been outside and his breath catches. 

It’s a good thing he hadn’t seen this before, or he doesn’t think he’d have let Michael out of the house. His hair is styled and tamed and the lines of the suit are sleek and flattering, the navy blue bringing out his eyes in the warmest of ways that makes them look honeyed and _striking_ like they could stop you in your stride. 

When Michael catches them staring, he waves with boyish excitement, before turning back to his conversation with his parents and the officiant.

“I wish I could take credit,” Alex sighs, eyes slipping down to how incredible Michael’s ass looks in the suit trousers. “That’s all Isobel and Mara.” 

Maria turns back to slide her palm over Alex’s tie to adjust it, looking him over, and he can tell when her gaze hits the ring because she freezes in place like she’s been stunned. Alex is so happy that Mara had been okay with him wearing it. It’s worth it for this exact moment, if nothing else. He waits for Liz to turn around, her gaze landing on the same place Maria is zoned in on.

“Oh my god!” Liz gasps loudly, both hands over her mouth before she reaches out and grabs Alex’s hand. “This is beautiful,” she says, eyes wide. “Alex, I’ve never seen a stone like this before, but it looks so familiar.” She’s squinting, like she’s trying to place it. “Have I seen this before?”

It’s the perfect lead-in and Alex is grateful for it, because it’s better than him announcing out of the blue that his boyfriend is an alien.

“I have,” Maria says as the epiphany strikes her, staring at Alex with confusion. “It looks like the sculpture in your backyard, the one that went missing when Michael was gone, but that Mara put back up when he returned.” He can tell that the pieces are clicking into place and she might not immediately jump to _aliens_ , but it’s clear that she knows something is going on. “Alex, what kind of stone is that?”

“It’s out of this world,” he jokes, feeling corny and ridiculous as he says it. 

He can hear the officiant warning everyone that there’s minutes to go before they start the ceremony, but Alex can explain things in more detail later. Right now, all that matters is telling them the truth. It’s not his secret, but it’s going to be his family and they’ve given him permission to tell it, so he wants to tread carefully.

“Michael’s an alien prince. Or, he was,” Alex clarifies, “because he abdicated, but now he intends to stay on Earth. His mother, his father, and pretty much everyone here outside of you and me are aliens from a planet called Antar.”

He waits to see their reaction. Liz’s expression is filled with doubt, but Maria seems to be on a different page. 

“High school,” Maria says, mainly to Liz. “Do you remember that time you and I thought we saw Guerin moving the guitar without touching it, that day by the bleachers? I’d convinced you to go down there and smoke a joint…”

“He has telekinesis,” Alex confirms. “Mara can kind of get inside your head, influence you if she needs to.” He’s still so nervous that they’re going to freak out or do something like call in the government, but they’re his best friends and Alex keeps telling himself that they wouldn’t do that to him or Michael. “You guys can’t tell anyone,” is his plea, knowing that he’s asking for a hell of a lot, but he has to hope they’ll be on board. “I know I kind of sprung this on you, but it’s my family,” he says quietly. “I need to keep them safe.”

“You’re our family too, Alex,” Maria reminds him softly. “We’d do anything to make sure you stay safe.”

“Even if it means not telling the world that Michael is ET,” Liz jokes. “Hey!” she says, eyes going wide. “No, that’s not fair. Alex, you can’t distract us with this and not tell us why you’re wearing Michael’s alien ring!” she hisses, and it’s not much of a secret given how the last three rows of guests can hear Liz’s forceful whisper. Alex can see them trying hard to look like they’re not eavesdropping and all of them are failing horribly at it.

Grinning, Alex shrugs, like it’s the easiest thing in the world to convince him to talk about (probably because right now, it is). “Michael proposed,” he says warmly. “We’re gonna get married.”

“Obviously,” Maria says, rolling her eyes. “So, when he was gone on that project…?”

“Back to his alien planet,” Alex confirms, and he hopes they don’t start asking him about Antar itself, because it’s not like he’s had a chance to go there. “I think he’s sticking around, now. We bought a house, we’ve got our plans,” he shares warmly, even though Michael hasn’t been going around telling everyone what the future holds for them.

Alex thinks that it’s a pretty good one, as far as a plan goes. Michael’s intention is to keep up his work. Instead of working for his own planet, he’ll provide Earth with his scientific genius mind and resources, and given the documents that the Antarian nobles had forged for him, he ought to be able to waltz right into NASA and get himself a job. 

One day, of course.

For now, they’ve both agreed to see where Alex’s career goes before they settle down somewhere for Michael.

“You owe us details about how he proposed,” Maria demands, but before Alex can get around to that, he’s luckily cut off by the sound system coming to life and people beginning to take their seats. 

Saved by the recommitment ceremony. 

“If everyone would please be seated,” the officiant says, and Alex is left with the hope and the trust that whatever happens next, Liz and Maria are in on the secret and they’ve vowed to keep it safe. “We’d like to get started, as I believe we all know the ceremony is the far more boring part of today and we’re all eager to get to the party.”

Laughter goes up around the crowd as Alex sits down near the front where he’s got a clear line of sight to Michael. He pats the chairs beside him for Liz and Maria to join him, which they do, albeit looking fairly more stunned than they did when they first arrived. 

He’s feeling so good and he thinks Michael can see it on his face when he catches sight of him. He mouths ‘everything okay?’ at Alex, and rather than respond, he gives him an “okay” hand signal, draping one arm around Maria’s shoulders, the other hooked with Liz’s elbow while they curl in together to watch Michael’s family up there at the altar. 

It's not a boring ceremony, though there are some odd traditions, and it seems to go on a bit longer than Alex was expecting. 

At one point, the officiant takes a piece of the alien glass that looks like Alex’s ring and steps on it, breaking the pieces in two before handing one apiece to Mara and Rath. “As a symbol of your commitment, we take these pieces,” he says, “and bind them together again. Mara, Rath, if you would…”

They step together and hold up the pieces, which begin to softly vibrate and drift together, sealing themselves in with one another and creating one whole piece again. Alex watches with wonder, struck by how happy Mara looks and feeling guilty that he hadn’t noticed for years that she’d been anything less.

He’d met a woman who had resigned herself to distance from her husband and a temporary span of time with her son. Now she gets the both of them, indefinitely, and Alex’s heart soars with happiness for her. 

Mara and Rath both laugh warmly as the pieces form together, a small cylindrical sculpture that looks like a vase, which Alex suspects will be in the home as soon as the ceremony is through.

“You may now share any words with one another that you might have prepared in advance,” the officiant says, as he steps back. 

It's Mara who begins, her eyes shining with happiness as she fixes her gaze on Rath. Alex is fairly sure that there could be a hundred thousand people here, and she wouldn’t look away.

“For the last decade you and I have held different priorities,” Mara says, beginning her vows with words that sound rife with difficulties and no small degree of wariness. “I thought that it mattered more to me to have my passion and my hobbies. I think I thought that you might come chase me, because I still had romantic ideas in my head about what a relationship should be. I forgot that it takes work, even when it’s everything I want it to be and even when you’re in love with your soulmate.”

Alex slides his fingers over his ring, rubbing it with his thumb to give himself a reminder as he stares at Michael standing up there beside Rath. Alex is entranced, because everything Mara is saying is something applies to them, too.

“I want us to take these next steps together,” Mara says. “I love you, and I love the way your mind works and that you hold duty in such a high regard. I’m ready for your big brain to work on the littlest problems, like whose turn it is to do laundry. It might not be the end of the world, but I think it’s plenty exciting, because we’ll make it that way.”

Rath reaches out for her hand to squeeze it, turning to glance at Michael before he begins. “I’m nowhere near as clever as my son,” he begins. “Strange way to begin your vows, I know, but I think it’s worth mentioning, because for years I thought that my contribution and my worth and importance mattered only to Antar. My son came to Earth to visit his mother and learn about their science and their culture.”

With a glance out into the audience, his gaze lands on Alex and he smiles even as there’s a sinking feeling in Alex’s stomach, because why is he looking at him like that?

“My son fell in love with an earthling who I’ve come to admire,” Rath says, and yes, okay, Alex had a right to flush as furiously as he did. He tries to sink down into his chair, but Maria and Liz refuse to let him. “Michael reminded me that I’m more important to Mara and to him than to my advisors and guards. He reminded me what it’s like to be young and in love, with a universe full of possibilities lying before you. I know we still have that, but I also know that I can’t take it for granted.” He turns towards Mara, blissfully drawing the attention off Alex. “I’m ready for us to recapture those early years and learn what we’re like when we don’t have the weight of a planet’s responsibilities on our shoulders. I’m ready to dance with you at all the local haunts, cook you dinner, and remind you of all my very bad jokes.”

Mara laughs, like the sound has bubbled out, and she says, “They’re truly awful jokes.”

“Maybe they’ve improved,” Rath replies with a grin. “I look forward to finding out what you think, because the only opinion that’s ever mattered to me is yours, the love of my life.”

He can hear Liz sniffling beside him and Maria reaches over Alex to hand her a handkerchief, but Alex is staring forward, still caught up in the ceremony like it’s a forcefield with a hold on him. 

“You may now renew your vows with a bond-sealing kiss,” the officiant says. 

It’s Mara who reaches out for Rath’s tie and tugs him in for a truly inappropriate kiss, and Michael’s aversion to looking at it would be comical (given how he actually slaps his hand over his eyes like he’s a toddler) if it weren’t so relatable to Alex. The thing is, Mara is as good as Alex’s mother too, and he doesn’t want to see her making out with anyone either, which means he scowls and ducks his head down until it’s safe.

“Let’s eat, everyone!” Rath announces, his giddy voice booming and carrying over the crowd, rallying the troops. 

Alex and Michael had talked about dinner seating arrangements before today, which is why he knows he’s not sitting with Mara, Rath, and Michael. He’d been adamant that he wanted to be with Maria and Liz, so they’re at their own small table off to the side, with some of the guards (who took off during the first course, Alex suspects to drink at the open bar and try and pick up girls). 

What he’s not expecting mid-dessert is for Michael to end up crashing their table, bending down to press a kiss to Alex’s temple as he settles into the open seat beside him.

“Congratulations are in order, I hear,” Maria teases, wiggling her fingers and nodding towards the ring on Alex’s left hand. “How’d you do it?” she demands instantly. Alex supposes they’re not even going to talk about the alien thing. 

Apparently, it’s more important to hear how he proposed.

From Michael’s besotted smile, it’s not something he minds talking about, and he wraps his arm around Alex as he picks at his dessert course (though not the cake, which still looms high and six-tiered on a table nearby). “I took him out to the desert where we had our first time,” Michael shares, giving Alex an adoring look. “I mean, we both knew we were getting hitched when I came back from Antar, but it meant something to me that the proposal went well.”

“You could’ve worn the Roswell High alien mascot outfit and I would’ve said yes,” Alex points out, tapping his fork on his plate.

“I mean, I know you have some weird kinks, Alex…” Michael stops talking when Alex pushes his face away playfully, but then grabs his chin to bring him back in for a kiss. Sighing happily, Alex leans back into him. 

He also feels indebted to give Michael the credit he’s owed. “It was a great proposal,” he insists. “The best part is that we’ve got the house and he’s not going back to his home planet.”

“Not without you,” Michael says seriously, but he looks worried as he glances to Maria and Liz. “You guys know, huh? You don’t think any differently of me? I know that I kind of crashed into your lives in high school, but I’m still the same guy. I didn’t exactly put on a weird different personality to blend in with humanity.”

“I can definitely attest to that,” Alex guarantees, because what he’s learned is that the aliens he’s met are every bit as human as anyone he knows here on Earth. 

Maria and Liz both have been rolling with it admirably, something Alex is wildly grateful for. “It explains why you could never tell us details about where you were from or your parents’ situation, we always thought that was weird,” Liz admits. “Still, you’re Michael. It doesn’t matter what color you are outside or inside, whether you have antennae or multiple appendages, or extra organs…”

“Does he have extra organs or appendages?” Maria asks, her gaze sliding down to Michael’s lap.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Michael smirks at her.

Alex sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “No,” he groans. “He doesn’t.”

Liz rolls her eyes, but keeps going. “You’re still Michael, the guy we met in high school and who I’m still mad at for outscoring me in every class. I was supposed to have an easy path to top of my class, then you had to come along and make me really work for it,” she says, but she’s shaking her head fondly, and Alex is so glad he did come along.

He doesn’t think he would’ve fallen in love with anyone else half as hard as he had with Michael. 

“Speaking of high school, I got an email from Kyle, you know,” Liz shares, as they’re taking away the plates from the tables, with Rath and Mara beginning to cut the massive cake. 

Alex feels the sting as she shares the news, not entirely sure how he feels about that. He’s comfortable with himself now and he’s marrying the man he loves, so Kyle’s mere existence shouldn’t bother him, but there’s a lot of memories that are hard to undo. Still stiff and frozen, he feels Michael’s hand on his back, rubbing between the shoulder blades in an attempt to comfort him. 

“And?” Alex asks, trying to clear some of the ice from his tone, though it’s difficult.

“He wants to know if he can email you, explain some things. He made sure that I knew he intended to apologize,” Liz keeps going. “I know it’s not my place and he’s absolutely still my _ex_ -boyfriend, but I think you should hear him out. I think he intends to move back to Roswell and I don’t want to think about you two butting heads if that happens.” 

Alex isn’t so sure he’s ready for that. 

Then again, when they were little, they really were a great team. Maybe Kyle reaching out to make amends is a show for Liz, but Alex won’t learn anything if he doesn’t give him a chance. Alex opens his mouth to tell her that he’s okay with that when he sees a shadow looming over their table. Glancing up, he sees Max standing there, shifting his weight from heel to heel and staring at Liz like she’s the one who put the stars in the sky.

“Hi,” Liz greets him with an amused smile, glancing to Alex like he’s got an explanation for Michael’s cousin.

He might get along with Isobel and understand her, but Max really is from another planet as far as Alex is concerned. He’d given up on trying to find anything but polite common interests with Max a while ago. Even his presence here is somewhat strange, seeing as he hasn’t said anything and keeps staring at Liz as if the rest of them aren’t there.

“Can I have this dance?” he blurts out finally.

_Oh_.

Alex stares at Liz, then at Max, and things click into place. Liz looks bemused, but she nods and stands as she takes hold of Max’s hand to be led to the dance floor, throwing them an incredulous look, and mouthing, ‘sorry!’ back at them, like she’s to blame for Max noticing how incredible she looks in that body-hugging dress. 

The only reason that Alex feels a little guilty is because he’d been meaning to sneak off to drag Michael away for a dance, which he says as much to Maria. “I don’t want to leave you here on your own,” he admits, willing to put the dance off until Liz is back (though given the way Max is holding her tight, that might be a while). 

“Don’t worry about me,” Maria guarantees, sliding onto her feet and smoothing out her dress. “I think I know someone who can fill my dance card,” she guarantees, before making her way across the floor to where Isobel is crooking a finger at her, beckoning her over after she pushes one of Rath’s guards out of her way, clearly done with her old plaything and onto the new. 

At this rate, Isobel is going to leave a trail of broken hearts and destruction in her wake before she goes back to Antar. If her targets remain Maria and Rosa, though, Alex suspects that Princess Isobel may have met her match.

“Hey handsome,” comes Michael’s sticky-sweet drawl near his ear, reminding him about his own dance card and distracting him from ruminating about Isobel’s love life. 

Alex tips his head backwards towards Michael, who sinks his fingers into Alex’s hair as he leans down to press his chin to Alex’s shoulder. “Mm,” Alex says, playing along with this little game. “You know, you sound a lot like my fiancé. He’s a genius, really handsome, and I’ve been meaning to steal a dance with him since they started the music.”

Michael groans, which Alex understands. He’s not the dancing type, but this isn’t just about moving around the room in a graceful waltz. It’s about the _nostalgia_. 

“Oh, come on,” Alex insists, smiling at Michael. “For old time’s sake, we have to dance. It’ll be like prom all over again.” He doesn’t say ‘without those assholes bullying me’, but he knows he doesn’t have to. Besides, a part of him wouldn’t trade how prom had happened for the world, because it had been how he and Michael had gotten together.

From the soft enamoured smile on Michael’s face, it wouldn’t have taken much more convincing. He’s on his feet, tugging Alex into his arms when the first strains of _Heaven_ start playing, a soft and sweet and slow version that they can dance to with ease.

Alex angles them on the floor where they can see Max and Liz swaying back and forth, then when he turns, can also see Isobel and Maria dancing and laughing. There’s more space between the latter two, but there’s something going on with Max and Liz, even if Max looks far more entranced than Liz does (though there’s still a fair degree of curiosity in her expression).

“I think you accidentally just played matchmaker,” Michael mumbles, clearly reading Alex’s thoughts.

“I did nothing,” Alex retorts.

“You were the one who invited Liz here,” Michael argues right back, smirking. “I’m not saying it's a bad thing. If anything, it might finally give Max something to live a little for. He’s way too boring, he could use a crush to liven up his life, even if it’s temporary.” Michael turns him as the guitar chords echo over the dance floor, sending shivers down Alex’s back.

He still can’t believe that they’re here, not really.

“At least they’re moving faster than we did,” Alex quips. “It took you forever to make a move.”

“I was a literal alien who didn’t know about earth culture. What’s your excuse?”

“I couldn’t believe that you might want me back,” Alex replies, and he knows they’re supposed to be joking, but he can’t help the soppy sincerity. 

Michael stops their dancing, staring at Alex with adoration as he cups his face with both hands, leaning in to kiss him hard, a kiss that Alex sinks into, like he could melt into Michael if he tries hard enough. When Alex drifts back, he hears the music and the soft, _now our dreams are coming true, through the good times and the bad_ , and he grabs Michael’s curls as he desperately hauls himself in for another kiss, because it means so much to him.

Michael, his parents, this house, this _home_ , it’s given him so much. 

“Thank you,” Alex says quietly, as he takes Michael back into his arms for the rest of the dance. “I think maybe you and your Mom saved my life.” It’s not that much of a stretch, either. He has no idea what would’ve happened to him if he’d stayed under Jesse’s roof, but he knows it wouldn’t have been a happy ending.

Michael gives him a watery smile. “Yeah, well,” he breathes out, “you made mine worth living, gave me something beyond expectation and duty.”

Even though the last strains of music are fading away, Alex doesn’t want to let go. “I love you,” he says, and he knows he’s said it today already, but he needs to say it again. “Love of my life, soulmate, everything your parents said applies.”

Michael leans in to kiss his cheek. “I love you too,” he vows, and pulls him back in while the music crossfades into something new. 

The night is beautiful with the stars shining above them, they’re full of good food, and they’re surrounded by the people they love. Alex doesn’t let Michael stray from his arms with few exceptions (because Maria and Liz demand a dance apiece, and then Mara and Isobel take their turn), but he winds his way back to Michael as the party starts to break up and people begin to depart.

“Are we going to have a big ceremony like that?” Alex asks, swaying back and forth to the music. It’s early in the morning and it’s been a very long day, which means that he’s exhausted and keeping his eyes open is a near-impossible task. 

Michael gives a soft hum in response, a hint that he’s just as tired. “We don’t have to. I figured we could have a long engagement while we figure things out. We both know we’re as good as married,” he points out. “Besides, I’m not really into the whole pomp and circumstance thing. You get tired of it, doing the royalty gig. That’s for us to decide, though.”

Alex can get on board with that. There’s no rush, because they’ve got the rest of their lives stretching out before them, and they’re in control. No one else is going to tell them how they’re supposed to live and that thought alone is as thrilling as Michael’s proposal had been.

When he opens his eyes, he sees that Mara and Rath have gone (likely spirited away to their little honeymoon home in the desert), and Liz is still talking with Max at a nearby table. Maria and Isobel are doing shots together, and there are smatterings of aliens either passed out or stumbling off to their hotels for the night.

It's _perfect_ and as he rests his cheek on Michael’s shoulder to keep dancing the night away, he knows that he couldn’t ask for anything more and that he wouldn’t want to.

* * *

After the ceremony, most of the ships containing the Antarians take off within a few days. They load the house with presents, they offer their well-wishes, and then they vanish back home. Michael remains somewhat wary that his father is going to change his mind, but every guard ship that leaves goes without him, and every relative that tries to convince him to go with fails in their task.

He’s honestly beginning to believe that maybe his father really does intend to stay for the next few years, against all the odds. 

What’s _more_ surprising is when he discovers that his aunt and uncle have gone back to Antar, but Max and Isobel haven’t. They’re still in the guest room (with Isobel taking the bed and Max on the air mattress, because he’s never figured out how to stand up to her in any real way). 

“What are you two still doing here?” Michael demands, and he has his suspicions, but he’s not about to jump to them. He’s also not entirely upset, and intends to offer them rooms at the new house, because it would definitely be better than their current situation. 

Max might look guilty about them hanging around, but Isobel isn’t.

“My parents said that I could have a summer off from my responsibilities,” she says with a lift of her shoulder, like she’s deeply proud of this fact. “There’s plenty to do around Roswell, so I thought I’d stay, see the sights, experience it all for myself.”

Michael can read between those lines. He thinks he might need to throw out a few warnings to his friends, but also make sure he prepares Isobel with a whole dossier of ‘don’t even fucking think about it’, because if she thinks about going near Wyatt or Hank, Michael will directly throw them out of the state with his mind.

“And you?” he asks Max, even though this one is an easy guess even without above average intelligence at his disposal. 

Max clears his throat, staring at his hands. “Liz said that if I wanted to take a road trip with her out to the ocean, I could.” 

Michael can’t help his amused laugh of disbelief. “I can’t believe that after all these years, you finally met someone you liked, here on Earth. What’s she going to do when you fly back home, Max?” he asks, and he’s asking for both Max’s sake, but also Liz. The last thing that he wants is for his friend to go through a long bout of heartbreak because their relationship is doomed.

“We’re just friends,” Max says defensively. 

He then goes on to mumble something under his breath, which Michael doesn’t entirely catch, but he thinks it sounds something like, ‘Liz’ and then ‘Antar’. Isobel looks like this is the first she’s hearing of it too, because she smacks Max on the arm. “Excuse me, what?” she demands.

“I said,” Max takes in a deep breath, “that Liz wanted to do a road trip this year and take a sabbatical from school. I suggested that if she really wanted to see something new and amazing, then she could consider coming back to Antar, with me.”

Michael’s eyes go wide as saucers. 

“Holy shit,” he says. 

He’s made the offer to Alex in passing, but never like this. This is Max, who doesn’t put out hypotheticals that he doesn’t intend to live up to, which means that if he’s offering to take Liz back home, then he really means it. The whole ‘just friends’ bullshit is something else he doesn’t intend to touch with a ten-foot pole, but this is wild, even for Max. Michael guesses that they really hit it off at the ceremony.

“What did she say?” Isobel asks, her voice panicked, like she’s not so sure about this whole plan of Max’s.

Max’s dopey and idiotic grin is answer enough.

Michael feels like he needs to swear some more, because he’s in disbelief at what he’s heard. Actually, he’s beginning to wonder if he even heard right, because Liz Ortecho has always been trying to get away from Roswell, but running right off the planet is a lot, even for her. 

Also, why the hell didn’t he hear this from _Liz_? Some friend she is. 

“She’s coming with me,” Max confirms, but seems to check his emotions rapidly. “As friends,” she confirms. “We’re just going as friends, two friendly people on a six month trip, so she can see the universe. I promised that I’d get her back here safe, then she could show me the coast,” he says, pronouncing the word like it’s some exotic destination instead of being a few states away.

Michael still feels stunned, but at least it’s clear that Isobel is in the same boat.

“Okay, do our parents know?” she hisses at him. “What about all those noble girls they’ve been trying to set you up with? They’re going to be really pissed off if you turn up with some beautiful girl on your arm.”

Max blushes and stares down at his lap. “She is beautiful, isn’t she?”

Michael and Isobel’s tandem groan would be amusing if not for the fact that Max is being so pathetically sad, especially about something that isn’t going to last. Max is setting himself up for heartbreak, but at the same time, who is he to argue? If it’s what Max wants, then he knows from childhood experience that there’s no convincing him otherwise.

You let Max do what he wants and you hope for the best. 

“Look, you take care of her,” Michael warns sharply. “Don’t break her heart, don’t let any of those weird advisors make her feel like shit about the fact that she’s not royalty, and for the love of god, Max, take her to some of the actual science labs, not just your culture museums? Please?” he begs.

“I promise,” Max vows, hand over his heart.

He and Isobel exchange a look, because Michael has a bad feeling this is going to go down badly, but he’s not about to stand in the way. Isobel isn’t either, because it’s clear that she’s got plans of her own; ones that Michael gleans enough about when he’s getting ready and sees some of the very short dresses that Isobel has added to her collection.

This might be a very dangerous summer for a lot of the people in his life. 

That evening, Michael heads to the Wild Pony to pick up Alex after his shift, but also to offer her a fair warning. “Just so you know,” he tells Maria, “Isobel is planning to stay in Roswell for the summer.”

Maria and Alex exchange a curious look, but then Maria looks at Michael with amusement. “Are you saying that to warn me or to _encourage_ me?” 

Michael’s not sure, honestly. He’s usually fairly good at getting a read on Isobel, but from what he can tell, she’s keeping her options open. Before he’d left to pick up Alex, she’d already scheduled a movie with Rosa and had mentioned that she wants to drop by the Wild Pony for a dancing night to see what dance trends that Earth has to offer. When Michael had asked if Isobel intended to go when Alex was working, she’d replied with a calm, “I think I’ll wait for Maria’s shift, thanks.”

Unlike him, Isobel loves her life as royalty, so at the end of the summer, she’ll be flying home and he’s only hoping there aren’t any broken hearts in her wake.

“You choose,” he decides. “Just know that she’s not sticking around and Isobel’s not really the commitment type, these days.”

Maria’s smile is cool, calm, and thoughtful. “Okay,” is all she says, before giving Alex a light push. “You can have this one back. He gave a decent retelling of your proposal that wasn’t the bite-sized version we got from you,” she says, “so I’m letting him go.”

Michael isn’t sure whether he should be _more_ forceful about his warnings, but Alex grabs him to steer him out of the Pony before he can open his mouth and say anything else. That seems like a bad idea and he gives a strangled noise to try and turn around, but Alex keeps marching him out.

“She’s changed her outfit four times in anticipation for Isobel showing up tonight, even if she won’t admit to it,” Alex says quietly in Michael’s ear. “Let her have this.”

Michael wants to air all his worries. He wants to point out that Isobel is still sniffing around Rosa, that she’s a haughty alien princess, that she’ll be leaving at the end of the summer, but Alex silences him with one last look. He lets his head fall forward with a groan.

“Fine,” Michael grumbles, leaning against the truck as Alex strips off his work shirt and replaces it with a soft blue sweater that Michael leaves alone for exactly five seconds before he wrinkles it up in his hand to pull him closer, kissing him chastely.

He’d steal more kisses, but, “Dinner,” Alex reminds him. 

Right, dinner with his parents. It’s probably a bad idea if he turns up to that half-hard and wanting to skip the meal so he and Alex can have one last hurrah in their old bedroom. He shakes his head and releases his hold on Alex’s sweater, heading to the driver’s side of the truck to get moving. 

They make a few stops to pick up supplies for dinner (including the dessert they said they’d bake and didn’t, the bottle of wine to apologize for that fact, and a bouquet of flowers), before heading back to their old home.

“You can stop sucking up to my parents, you know,” Michael says, using his powers to unlock the front door as he stares warily at the flowers and the wine in Alex’s hands, “they like you plenty, even before we got engaged.”

“Yeah, I’m not giving your Dad any reason not to,” Alex retorts with a scoff, “The man probably still has launch codes for secret missiles all over moons in the universe.”

“Actually, they’re in asteroids,” Rath says from where he’s towelling off wet hands, staring at Alex in that calm and unblinking way. Michael knows that means that he’s fucking with Alex and lucky for him, Alex has finally figured that out, too. He reaches for the flowers and brings them to the kitchen, where they go into the reshaped vase from the ceremony.

Alex gestures towards where his Dad’s gone, as if somehow that’s proof of why he needs to behave, but Michael rolls his eyes.

“He’d fire those on anyone who gave you trouble,” Michael retorts, taking off his shoes. “Speaking of, you decide yet if you want to let Valenti email you?” Alex gives Michael a dubious look, because if that’s a hint that Michael thinks they should fire missiles on his high school bully, then he’s got another thing coming. Michael rolls his eyes. “I meant speaking of trouble,” he says, and guides Alex along, “not that we should nuke him with alien projectiles.”

“I said that Liz could give my email to him,” Alex admits, settling into the table in his usual spot automatically. Rover’s still under the table, eating scraps from Rath as he cooks, but soon they’ll be taking the dog to the new house.

Michael’s not sure if Rath will be more upset to see his son go or to see the dog out of his life. He’s become very attached to Rover in a short amount of time. Michael’s pretty sure he knows the answer, but he’s not planning to obsess over it because it’d just hurt his feelings (since he knows the answer is that Rath will miss Rover more).

“What’s this, now?” Mara asks, pouring them wine from the bottle they’d brought. She presses a hand to Alex’s neck and squeezes in gratitude. 

“Kyle wants to email Alex,” Michael explains, “I dunno, to say that he finally got his head out of his ass? I don’t know what you’re expecting,” he says bluntly. 

“It’s an email. What’s the worst he can do, be an asshole in written form? I’ve already dealt with his verbal version of it.” Alex sips his wine, shrugging like it’s not a big deal. He might not be ready to hold a grudge, but Michael is, and if Valenti doesn’t watch himself, then he will get those launch codes and make his life a living hell.

From the look on his Mom’s face, he’s not the only one thinking about it. 

_Good_. Alex needs guard dogs.

“Well, just remember, there’s one asteroid weapons complex that can take out a whole house without anyone the wiser,” Rath says, and holds up the salad bowl cheerfully. “Let’s eat!”

It’s their first dinner they’ve had together as a family without the others lingering around, but they quickly slide into an ease and comfort that makes it feel like they’ve been doing this for years. There’s always something to talk about, whether it’s Alex’s job or Michael’s plans, Rath’s latest hobby, or Mara’s latest piece of art. They make it through the bottle of wine before they break out the dessert, and by the end of the night, they’ve already made plans to do this again. 

“You might think you can move out, but you can’t ever escape your mother,” Mara says as she kisses Michael’s cheek on their way out. “Two days from now, dinner.”

“Mom,” Michael protests, but it’s a token whine.

He'd come back every night if she asked for him to and he knows Alex feels the same. When they go home to another house, it feels _strange_ even if it is theirs. It’s not fully decorated yet and while anywhere with Alex feels like home, he misses his parents. 

He's twenty-two and he’s missing his parents, instead of being thrilled with the freedom at his disposal. Clearly, something is wrong with him. 

“Hey,” Alex murmurs, as he comes up behind him. “You okay?”

Michael closes his eyes and sinks back into Alex’s hold. They’re standing in the front foyer of the house and there’s only a few possessions here, but with Alex wrapped around him, he knows that it won’t be long before they make this place _theirs_.

“Just thinking about our future,” Michael says. “You?”

“Same,” Alex agrees. “Like how in thirty minutes from now, I’m thinking about how you’re going to be on your back, taking my cock, and coming,” he says, pressing a biting kiss to Michael’s neck before sucking a red mark just below the collar. 

Michael shivers and watches Alex head towards the bedroom, dropping clothes as he goes. 

That is _absolutely_ a future that he can get behind (or, rather, that he can let get behind him), even if it hadn’t been the one that he’s been thinking about. He grins as he chases after Alex, intent on christening the new house. They start with the bedroom, but over the next few weeks, they manage to get every surface involved so nothing and nowhere feels left out. 

The rest of the summer goes by quickly, probably too quickly in Michael’s opinion. 

Max and Liz head out on the next ship and before they even land on Antar, Isobel’s ship takes off to bring her home. Just as Michael had predicted, her summer in Roswell had been a wild _whirlwind_ , but neither Rosa or Maria had seemed upset at the end when Isobel had taken off for home. Whatever had gone down with Rosa seemed to happen fast, furiously, and fairly quietly, whereas with Maria, it had been a little more normal. Michael had caught Isobel curled up with Maria, watching movies on an almost-weekly basis. He’d also caught them in far more compromising situations, but he doesn’t want to think about that. 

Alex and Michael have fully moved into their new home (and done their due diligence to make sure everything has been suitably _christened_ ), and everyone save his parents have made their way back to Antar, some of them with unexpected plus-ones (in Max’s case). The chaos finally dies down and they’re able to get back to their normal, monotonous lives.

Tonight, Michael comes home from the lab he’s been using in town, hangs up his coat by the door, and sees that today’s date on the calendar is circled. It’s time for the call home.

Michael had been the one to program in Max’s flight path plus the protective coding with Alex’s help to ensure they couldn’t vary from it, which means he knows the exact date they’re expected to return to Antar. With some quick math, he also knows the exact time zone, which means that it’s time to check in.

Max is under strict instructions for it, because Michael had demanded to make sure Liz was okay and that she was fine with the Antar atmosphere (he couldn’t see why she wouldn’t be, but he still worried). “Hey babe,” Michael calls out to Alex, bent over to start connecting up the power couplings to get the transmission working. “It’s time to check in with Max and Liz.” 

Alex surfaces from his studio, rubbing a hand over his face as he yawns (which means he’s been working too hard, and that’s another little talk they’re going to have). Michael tugs him closer to rub a little graphite off his face, which means he was probably writing music. 

“They’re finally there?”

“Twelve-week flight plan,” Michael says, which is pretty long, but, “Max wanted to give Liz the tourist version.” Twelve weeks with the two of them in a fairly small space makes him hope that they’re using the pod technology to go into stasis, but he thinks Max’s romantic heart will find it difficult to pass up showing her the galaxies out there. 

Michael finishes the last connect with a triumphant cry, and settles at Alex’s side as the connection flickers to life. Soon, there are figures in their view, showing Max and Liz, sitting side by side. “Hey guys, we made it!” Liz announces cheerfully, waving at them over the transmission. 

Even though he’d been the one to plan in the flight path and he knows how safe the ships are, Michael feels the tension bleed out of him to see her safe and sound. From the grateful sound Alex makes, he’s not the only one who’s been worrying. 

“What do you think?” Michael demands, eager to hear everything.

“Well, it was…”

“Not you,” Michael interrupts Max. “Liz, what do you think of Antar?”

“The atmospheric properties are wild,” she rambles, which is exactly what he’d wanted to hear. “The minute I touched down, Max let me take a bunch of soil samples from various biological environments and I’ve been analyzing them. He’s even let me take some of his blood and convinced some of the staff to give it too, you should see the way your cells behave, it’s fascinating,” she rambles. 

It sounds like she’s got Max wrapped around her little finger. Michael’s so proud of her for getting what she needs, but also to hear someone’s opinion of his home planet.

They talk about the events coming up and how Liz is going to attend a royal ball as Max’s guest, raving about the dress they’re making for her. They’ve been back on Antar for less than a day, but it looks like the nobility has wasted no time in getting Max back into the thick of things, and Liz had wasted no time in getting to the science of it all.

Alex stays weirdly quiet through the call, though he squeezes Michael’s hand in reassurance, asking a few questions about whether she’s happy and safe and whether she made the right choice.

With a glance to Max, Liz gives a nod, and when she replies, she’s looking at him. “I think it’s panning out pretty well.”

“Max, make sure you impress her at the dance,” Michael warns. “Liz, if you need any equipment for your experiments, tell them to let you into my lab or my bedroom and you can have anything you want,” he vows. “Including any of the alcohol I stashed to get through some of the boring events. Trust me,” he insists. “You’ll need it.”

Laughing, Liz promises that she’ll make sure she takes anything she needs.

“We should go,” Max admits. “We’ve been running since we got here and as much as Liz doesn’t want to admit that she’s tired…”

Liz yawns, almost on cue, and Max gives Alex and Michael a pointed look, as if to say: _See?_

“We love you,” Alex says, waving as Michael leans down to toggle off the transmission. “Take pictures!” he says in a rush, just as Michael cuts them off. 

With Max and Liz out of frame, Alex slumps back against his seat. Michael glances up at him, nearly laughing out loud for the sour look on Alex’s face. He’s glad that they got to talk to Max and Liz, and he even feels a little nostalgic and homesick for the way Liz is experiencing a new planet, remembering those early days when he’d first landed on Earth and had been discovering everything for the first time. 

He’s not entirely sure why Alex is so pissed off, though. If he’s upset, it’d explain why he’d been so withdrawn on the call.

Michael tugs at Alex’s waist to bring him flush against his body, pressing his chin to Alex’s shoulder. “What is it?” he mumbles, because he figures something’s up. Turning his head, he presses a kiss to Alex’s neck. He thinks maybe Alex might comment about how Liz and Max were looking kind of chummy and even though they hadn’t been touching or kissing or canoodling, there had been a few moments that had made Michael wonder if “just friends” has been breezed past.

“Nothing,” Alex mutters defensively. Michael’s scoff is quick to cut through that bullshit, because Alex sighs. “I guess I thought that if anyone from Roswell was going to go to Antar, then it’d be me,” he grumbles, and he sounds adorably petulant (which Michael doesn’t intend to say out loud, because he will get smacked). 

Okay, so not gossiping about the vibe, but Michael figures they can talk about it later. Alex’s issue is something that Michael had been thinking about, too, ever since Max had announced his plans. 

It's why he already has something ready to go. 

“You know,” Michael points out, “you could always take the next few months off. The last course I plotted has transit down to eight weeks each way,” he says, not mentioning that he’d plotted that course with the intent to bring Alex to Antar in his mind. “I know Mom and Dad were meaning to head back there for a visit and…” He shrugs, giving Alex a hopeful look. “It might be nice to have our wedding ceremony there, before we have the party here.”

“Are you suggesting that you take me back to your home planet so we can get married and one-up one of our best friends and your cousin?”

Is that what he’s suggesting? 

Michael makes an innocent face, like it hasn’t even occurred to him. “My schedule’s clear,” Michael says, and he can feel the grin on his face beginning to ache with how big it’s getting, while the plans in his mind starts to crystallize into something _perfect_. “I think maybe it’s time to even the score, let you see where I grew up, give the people the wedding they’ve been wanting to throw since I turned two.”

It won’t be with a royal princess the way they might have wanted it to be, but at the same time, Michael’s heart is starting to beat faster as he thinks about Alex with him on his home planet and showing the man he loves everything that made him into the man he is today.

Alex grins right back at him, and it makes Michael delighted to know that he’s fallen in love with someone as petty and mischievous and determined as he is. “It is only fair,” Alex agrees, which means that they’re really doing this. They’re really going back. 

It's time for Michael to take another trip.

This time, he’s not going alone and when he gets there, he knows exactly what to expect. Michael’s going to have Alex at his side and he knows that even though their house is here along with the people they love, it won’t matter where he goes so long as Alex is with him. They’ll be married in front of Michael’s people and when they get back, the others that couldn’t be there will get to celebrate them. Alex will get to see Antar, will get to hear their music and taste their food, and will get to see the places that shaped Michael.

Then, he’ll understand more than ever that although Antar had been where Michael grew up, it’s on Earth that he’d fallen in love and found himself a future. Home isn’t Antar, it’s not Earth, and it's not anywhere in between; not for him.

Home is the warmth of Alex Guerin in his arms, the steadiness of his gaze, the love in his eyes, the tenderness of his kiss. Home is the way Alex sings to him as he strums the guitar, it’s stargazing with their limbs tangled up together.

It’s _Alex_ , because Alex is the only home he’ll ever need.

“Come on,” Michael says, eyes bright and brimming with hope. “Let’s go pack our bags and go see the stars.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's the end of the ride. Thank you to everyone who was with me on this wild one. This one was my baby, so if you want to ramble at me over [at tumblr](https://andrea-lyn.tumblr.com), I'll never say no. 
> 
> There is a mini post-stamp fic in progress, so not a sequel, but I will be returning to this 'verse once more (at least).
> 
> 💙


End file.
